Set it Alight
by Anne Camp aka Obi-quiet
Summary: It is better that one man falls to darkness than an entire Galaxy. It turns out the price of the future is a certain man's soul. Was it worth it? AKA What if Ventress had actually understood the subtle, if despicable, art of breaking a man? Rated 'M' to be on the safe side-rated for torture and some violence.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: If you don't know about Asajj capturing Obi-wan and using a Sith Torture Mask on him, I will summarize below, but you can also look it up on Wookiepedia. I recommend looking up the battle of Jabiim as well. If you already know, you can skip to the beginning of chapter 1.

For all intents and purposes, Jabiim was a planet that had a good deal of resources, but the people were split as to whether they should support the Republic or the Separatists. In the end, the forces of the Republic weren't adequate for the terrain on the planet and they ended up having to abandon it. During the rather long battle-period, Obi-wan was presumed dead when in actuality, Asajj Ventress was able to spirit him away when he was knocked out after an explosion. She was able to cut him off from the Force and tortured him. She didn't like the fascination that Dooku seemed to have with Obi-wan and felt that if Obi-wan would admit that she was better than him, Dooku might take her on as an apprentice.

For the general timeline of this fic, see the end note. Thanks!

xXx

Chapter 1

_Many people throughout history have somehow come to think that freedom is the ability to choose and not live with undesirable consequences. Freedom, however, is the _right_ to make a choice, not necessarily the right to choose the results of your actions. Wise people choose their actions and words with their consequences in mind. Desperate people do as well, but with blinders on. It is difficult to make a wise choice when any result is undesirable. It is possible to be wise and desperate, but as far as I am concerned, the truly wise would never become desperate. I had hoped I had become wise during my time as a knight. I was wrong._

The worst part about the entire situation was the fact the he knew he could have succeeded in just about any other circumstance. It would have been difficult and he knew that he was breaking, but he could have pulled through if it hadn't been for Anakin. Not that Obi-wan could blame him. No, he knew where to place the blame.

The Jedi Knight didn't know how long he'd been held prisoner by the time Ventress decided to use that Force forsaken mask on him, but he had a will of durasteel and a goal in his mind and he refused to break. He didn't like the pain, but he could handle it, even as it grew worse and worse each day, never quite leaving anymore. The visions the mask brought to him were more difficult to deal with, and they'd begun to wear on him. He wasn't sure how long he could hold out as the despair, guilt, anger and all the hundreds of other negative emotions built, but he was determined to defeat it.

Then everything changed when, an indeterminable amount of time after he'd involuntarily donned the mask, the door opened, allowing a wave of stale air not quite so full of the smell of unwashed bodies and decaying excretions to brush past him. He squashed the longing he had for fresh air and sunlight, once again leaning on his not insubstantial reserve of patience. He'd been working on a way to touch the Force despite the pain the mask brought him every time he tried, but hadn't exactly had the most success. It would still be a while yet before he could escape.

With a resigned sigh, he steeled his mind and will to endure another few hours of torture. The darksider hadn't been able to turn or break him yet, and he had long since resolutely decided that today (that every day) would be no different. He was almost glad she hadn't been trained in interrogation so much as assassination. She didn't understand how to really _break_ someone, she just liked causing pain. He was also grateful that she knew so little about his past. She hadn't been able to reopen old wounds and play on his weaknesses, at least not in anything beyond a general sense.

The mask, being in his mind, did extrapolate on those fears and memories, but he knew they were only in his head and refused to voice the horrible visions aloud. He would ignore images of Qui-gon leaving him on Bandomeer; of Qui-gon and Anakin—master and apprentice—walking away from him, Anakin with a new Padawan braid grinning happily up at his new master, never to speak to Obi-wan again; of the two women he'd loved and could never be with because of his convictions; of his absolute inadequacies in being a master to the Chosen One and hundreds of other scenarios that _could_ have happened. And that was just when Ventress wasn't inflicting more pain in some new, previously inconceivable way.

He braced himself against the visions of killing her slowly that would surely come in the next few hours; of making sure she felt just as much torment as he'd endured. The mask tended to bring those out every time he saw the woman lately. He purposefully turned his thoughts away from those and pushed down the idea of never escaping and being left here to rot because he simply refused to fall. He was a Jedi Knight. He could do this.

Obi-wan took several calming breaths and was just about to look up at his captor when he heard the dull thump of a body falling to the floor, and he opened his previously closed eyes in surprise. Then his blood froze in his veins. The body on the floor was Anakin. The boy was dirty and worn, but he'd recognize his Padawan anywhere.

"No…" he heard himself whisper despite his resolve.

Anakin shouldn't be here! Why was he here?! Anakin was _supposed_ to rescue him or at the very least stay out of harm's way, not get himself captured!

A triumphant cackle had him looking up at Ventress. She'd wizened up somehow and realized she would have to attack one of Obi-wan's weak points—one of his _attachments—_to get to him. He knew he had too many of them, no matter how he tried to fix it; to hide and ignore the knowledge, desperately working to release such feelings to the Force multiple times a day. It had never worked completely, even before the mask, and now he couldn't even do that. It had been all he could do to hold to his convictions before now. And, of all his weaknesses, Anakin was probably the most obvious and the one he was the most deeply attached to, if he were honest with himself.

The mask immediately brought up images of the torture Anakin would go through because Obi-wan had been caught, because he'd been too _weak_ to take what was his, embrace the darkness and gain the power he needed.

He forced the thoughts aside and glared up at Ventress.

"Anakin has nothing to do with this," he said, upset that his voice had been sharper than he'd intended. "Leave him out of it!"

The woman regarded him with a smirk. "No. Now that I have both of you within my grasp, I'll make sure to break him worse than I'll break even you."

Obi-wan felt a surge of panicked anger shoot up like a geyser inside of him and he was about to snap a scathing retort when a groan from his apprentice stopped him.

"Wha…? Where am I?"

"Anakin," Obi-wan croaked in a voice that had been all too used to screaming recently. Anakin blinked and looked up. From the look on his face, he barely recognized what must be nothing but the form of a man with barely enough skin drooping over his skeleton to classify him as 'alive' hanging from the ceiling in what was left of the cloak Ventress had shoved him into so long ago. She hadn't bothered to change the rags since just after he and the clone he'd been captured with had arrived, and the dirty tatters were only marginally better than being completely naked (which she'd subjected him to multiple times as well). He suspected she only put the rough cloth on him at the end of their sessions so as to aggravate his wounds.

Anakin's eyes widened when he realized just who was hanging before him. "M-master?" he asked warily before a relieved grin broke onto his face. "You're alive? I knew it! I told everyone, but no one would believe me."

And that hurt more than he thought it should. No one was even _trying_ to rescue him from this nightmare? They'd just abandoned him to this? He didn't want anyone else to put their lives in danger for him, and yet he had to suppress the resentment that boiled at the thought. He couldn't release it to the Force, but that didn't mean he had to give into the feeling either. No matter how much he wanted to.

"I never gave up on you," Anakin said with a weak smile before glancing angrily over his shoulder at Ventress.

"Aw, isn't that precious," she said in a sickeningly sweet, condescending tone that really only showed her disdain. "Too bad no one will come looking for either of you now." With that she leaned close to Obi-wan and whispered harshly in his ear. "You're mine. Both of you."

Obi-wan tried to quell the growing dread in his gut, but he couldn't. He could only wait and see what would come.

And he hated it.

xXx

She didn't touch Obi-wan during the next two hours, except to tear off the filthy cloak from his back, thus opening all of his scabs again. After that, she had Anakin hung up across the rather small room in a similar style to Obi-wan, stripped and tortured.

Every slash and punch they made towards the boy tore at Obi-wan's heart. It would have practically killed him without the mask, but with the mask on…. He quickly reassessed Ventress' ability for torture. Either she did know more about it than she had let on, or she learned quickly. Hurting Anakin got to Obi-wan far more than anything she ever could have done to him.

If she had tortured anyone else he would have felt horrible about watching what they endured, but it was a hundred times worse with his Padawan. And that brought out his shame. He shouldn't think like that. Jedi—real Jedi—didn't think like that.

Despite the burns inflicted on Anakin by her lightsabers along with the punches and the beatings they seemed to enjoy, Anakin didn't so much as whimper. He only glared (with a little too much anger and hate in Obi-wan's opinion, but he was still proud of his Padawan for enduring it) at them.

Then, on Ventress' command and with little warning, they simply left both of the Jedi hanging there and sauntered out the door, the Sith Acolyte whispering a promise that she would return to continue her tender administrations soon enough. It bothered Obi-wan more deeply than he cared to admit that he felt a far greater relief when the door finally closed than he normally did.

Anakin wasn't in the state of mind to talk much for a while after the relative darkness had returned, leaving only some very dim light for Obi-wan to see Anakin by. He wished he could help his apprentice, and seeing Anakin that dazed (probably from a concussion) worried him greatly, but the only thing he could do was keep talking…and that hurt his scratchy, raw throat that probably hadn't really healed from his own awful sessions in the past months.

Despite this, he kept up a constant litany, probing Anakin to respond as often as he could and usually only getting a vague grunt in recognition. Still, Obi-wan would take that over nothing.

When Anakin finally seemed to wake up enough that he could talk to Obi-wan, his words weren't nearly as composed as usual…which said quite a bit. 'Composed' wasn't the word most beings who knew the Padawan would use to describe him and the fact that he wasn't even trying to put up a front that approached his usual, cocky standard had the older Jedi holding his breath just to hear the younger one breathe.

"So glad you're 'live, Master," he managed to slur out. "I 'as so scared. Thought you left me, like Mom did."

Obi-wan flinched at that for two reasons. Anakin was never this straight forward with his feelings and that did not bode well for the boy's state of mind. Also, Obi-wan still felt a great deal of guilt for not putting more stock in Anakin's reoccurring dreams. He hadn't been happy that Anakin had gone to Tatooine, and it hadn't been too difficult to figure out why he'd gone. After Obi-wan had confronted Anakin, the boy had finally snapped and yelled that it was Obi-wan's fault his Mother was dead. If he'd been allowed to go earlier, he could have saved her.

The mask, of course, pounced on that with a vengeance, driving his guilt through the roof. It took a great deal of effort to focus on his Padawan again.

"I'm so sorry, Anakin. I never wanted to leave you."

The young man smiled then, a sort of dopey, half-delirious smile. "I know, Master. Mom didn't either, I don't think. She didn' look 's bad as you though…. It's really you, right? You're really here, aren't you Master?"

Obi-wan sighed. "Yes, Anakin, I'm really here."

"This in't a dream?"

"No, Anakin."

He cocked his head to the side, an effort that hurt judging from his wince. "You sure?"

"Are you in pain, Anakin?"

The boy seemed to think about that for a moment before he nodded his head. Obi-wan suppressed the surge of anger at that and spoke as calmly as he could manage.

"Well then you can't be dreaming."

"It could be a vision though."

That didn't bode well. "Anakin," Obi-wan started slowly, "do your visions hurt you?"

Anakin moved in such a way that suggested he'd tried to shrug and failed with his arms chained up as they were. "Sometimes."

A niggling, sick feeling started in Obi-wan's stomach. As far as he knew only visions from the Dark Side of the Force hurt. Why would Anakin be getting visions from the Dark Side?

Well, he doubted anything he said right now would get through to the boy so he filed that away for later. Then he focused on his Padawan again. Just having someone else there to focus on was helping him immensely. He could almost ignore the terrible visions the mask brought him.

And yet, they somehow seemed worse too, more personal and focusing on little things that he'd never realized he'd had a problem with…or big things he'd thought he could control.

"I'm so sorry, Anakin.," he finally said again, giving up all pretense of his normal reaction to his Padawan's pain. Usually he would stand strong and try to show his charge what a true Jedi should do…but he didn't feel like a Jedi right now, not with the thoughts he'd been having and not with how he'd felt recently, even before the blasted torture device covering his face. But right now, when Anakin probably wouldn't even remember, when he felt so low and broken and beaten, he just didn't have the will to say anything but what he truly felt. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry I'm not an adequate mentor and I'm sorry that I'm the only one who would train you. You deserve better."

"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Anakin asked, eyes confused from what Obi-wan could see of him. "You're the best, Master."

"If I was the best, we wouldn't be in this position right now," Obi-wan returned tiredly. "If I were the Jedi I was supposed to be…" Qui-gon would have lived to train Anakin and the boy would have had a proper Master, not some up-start, tainted Padawan who really wasn't ready to be a Knight, let alone take an apprentice.

"I don' want 'nother master. They tried to give me one. It was stupid. I hated it 'cause he wa'n't you." Anakin said, far more bluntly than usual.

"Oh, Anakin," Obi-wan said, both grateful and sad. "Please don't do that to yourself."

The Padawan frowned. "Do what?"

"Hate. Especially not here. It will eat you alive and you won't come out the same as when you entered." Obi-wan knew he wouldn't. Would he ever be able to view himself as clean or worthy again? He doubted it. "It's almost destroyed me."

Anakin frowned. "You never hate anything, Master."

Obi-wan felt his shame grow at that. "Oh, I do. I hate what Ventress is doing and I hate this planet and I hate being here and I hate the state we're in and I hate the situation…" Okay, that was a little more than he had wanted to say. It was more than he realized he'd wanted to say. Still, he took a calm breath and did his best to ignore the encouragement of the Mask. But the last thing on his mind slipped out before he could stop it.

"And I hate her."

Anakin looked confused again. "No, you don't, Master. You can't hate. You're a perfect Jedi."

Obi-wan snorted derisively. "If you think I am a perfect Jedi, then I have obviously not taught you well enough. You should look up to Jedi like Master Yoda and Master Mundi and Master Windu. I am a prime example of what a Jedi should not be."

The confusion still remained and more than a little worry had crept into the expression. "You're…not perfect Jedi?"

The mask suddenly seemed to bring up every single thing he had ever despised about himself in a second. Every flaw and every mistake flashed through his mind in an instant. He saw everything a true Jedi would never have done. "No, Anakin, I'm not. Far from it. Very far from it."

"But…you always follow the code."

Obi-wan snorted again. "If I always followed the code, I wouldn't have taken you on as a Padawan. If I always followed the code, I wouldn't argue against the Council's decisions. I wouldn't have fallen in love—twice, I might add—and I wouldn't…I wouldn't care about you the way I do." He turned his eyes up to bore into Anakin's, even through the darkness. "Please, don't be a Jedi like me. Be a true Jedi, Anakin."

The boy just stared at him in open shock. Then he opened his mouth and closed it. Then he scrunched his face up as if he were thinking hard and having difficulty doing so.

"You…fell in love?"

Obi-wan sighed. Of all the things for Anakin to latch onto it had to be that? Still, he felt relieved to have it out in the open, but at the same time, the shame and embarrassment and guilt…it was smothering, and the mask was working overtime to drive every single emotion deeper into his already fragile soul.

"To my shame, yes."

Anakin frowned. "It's not shameful."

"It is for a Jedi."

After that, Anakin seemed to think for a moment. "Maybe I'm no' cu' out to be a Jedi."

Obi-wan felt his insides grow cold and he looked up in shock at Anakin.

"Anakin, don't say that!"

"Why not? Jedi can' love? Tha's poodoo. I want to love. Is that so bad?"

He wanted to say yes and argue and bring up the points he already had so many times before, but he just felt so tired, like his soul sported a weariness that would never dissipate.

"I don't know, anymore, Anakin." Then he changed the subject. "I think I am going to try and get some sleep. I suggest you do the same."

Anakin seemed to watch him for a few moments. "Okay then, Master," he finally said. Obi-wan sighed and tried to urge his body into rest with success born of days—weeks—of doing so in this position. He hoped Anakin would be alright. He'd been awake for what felt like hours now, so surely it wouldn't be dangerous to let him sleep with that concussion. Obi-wan hoped so, because at the moment, he wasn't sure he could stay awake to watch him.

xXx

Ventress came seven times after that before she got impatient. At first her routine varied little. She and her muscle man, Adius, would come in, beat Anakin, burn him with lightsabers, leave him bruised and breathing hard all while taunting the older Jedi. Then the darksider got particularly angry at Obi-wan's seemingly endless tolerance.

That was the day Anakin screamed for the first time. That was also the day they broke his legs and left him to dangle where both appendages would scrape the ground and aggravate the wounds. Ventress' cackles and the guard's chuckling did nothing to drown out the sharp crack of bone breaking as they used the large hammer they'd brought. After that, Anakin refused to do more than whimper until his body had finally taken enough and he'd fallen into what Obi-wan hoped was a blissful unconsciousness.

"What a pity," Ventress said as she regarded Anakin's limp form. Then she seemed to shrug and turned to Obi-wan. "Can you see how selfish you are? You're leaving your Padawan to suffer simply because you refuse to swallow your pride and submit to me."

"After which point you'll kill us both," Obi-wan said, his voice colder than he would have thought possible.

At that, the witch just laughed and put a hand almost lovingly on Obi-wan's cheek. "Right now, wouldn't that be a mercy? And isn't that what you Jedi preach? Mercy and hope and faith…and where has it gotten you? Just admit it, Obi-wan. Admit that I am superior and bow to me, and I will end your suffering."

And for just a moment, he considered it. And it galled him to no end that he did. He refused to open his mouth, though. He'd gone beyond seething what felt like forever ago. Now he had snapped into a sort of uncaring (vindictive even) iciness that kept his head clear despite the rage and guilt that had driven him to this point. His mind registered this strange, new state, and he knew that knowing he could reach such a condition at any other time in his life would downright scare him, but at the moment he could only seem to focus on the Sith witch in front of him and Anakin's broken form. In addition to the two broken legs dragging on the floor they had left him with several broken fingers, a multitude of bruises and sluggishly bleeding cuts on various places all over his body. They hadn't bothered to clothe him again since the first day.

Seeing his Padawan like that finally pushed Obi-wan further than he'd realized was possible. He thought he'd hated before. He'd had no idea, because what he felt now went so far beyond hate that he didn't even know if there was a true classification for his complete and utter loathing.

"You do know, this is all your fault, Obi-wan," Ventress reiterated with mock admonition. "I wouldn't have even gone after your precious Padawan if you had simply acknowledged the truth—that I am superior to you, although taking him away from the war was probably a blessing after the Republic's horrible defeat at Jabiim. After all, everyone else died."

Obi-wan felt as if she'd socked him in the gut and guilt shot through the cold numbness that had blanketed his mind, soaring ever higher, despite his best efforts not to give into her taunts. Jabiim had been lost, and so many lives with it, although his still strangely clear mind brought up the idea that she could very well be lying, no matter how honest she'd sounded, but that didn't change the fact that he _should_ have been there!

His mental shields had already taken more of a beating in the last two weeks (or however long it had been since Anakin had come) than it had in the last two months of torture, and the mask immediately jumped on her words to continue to pound at the shattered remains of his defenses.

Suddenly, as if she'd driven a spike into his very soul, the words hit home. If he'd been more aware during the battle where Ventress had captured him…he'd been too focused on rescuing _everyone_, and he hadn't been paying attention as he, both a General and a Jedi, should have. If he'd been a little more vigilant, a little more intent on _winning_ the battle as he should have…but wasn't it presumptuous to think that his presence could have made a huge difference? And yet, his mind nagged at him that at least he may have been able to save more people if he'd just been there...he _should_ have been slogging through the rain-soaked mud and leading his clone troops into battle instead of here in Ventress' tender care.

Every single life lost on that planet fell onto his shoulders joining the weight of Anakin's pain and he felt as if his entire spirit would simply crumble under it. He couldn't seem to breathe and it felt strange that his mind was still analyzing all of this with a cold, truthful accuracy that didn't seem to associate with the rest of him. So much responsibility, so many lives; it almost felt as if the weight on his spirit was spilling over, leaking into his physical form because it had nowhere else to go. Visions of Anakin screaming in pain played over and over in his head, and he realized how much he truly despised her—this evil witch.

He hated her almost as much as he hated himself. And the mask wouldn't let him forget it. He tried to banish the realization with the knowledge that she was doing this because she herself was in pain, but it didn't help nearly as much as it had before.

She'd chosen this path. No matter what her past was, she had chosen to turn into…_this._

"Have a pleasant rest remembering everything you've failed at tonight," she said as she closed the door, cutting off most of the light yet again.

Obi-wan focused as hard as he could. He was eventually able to banish the pain and anger, even with the mask on, and he did it out of sheer will, but he could not touch the guilt, no matter how hard he tried. After all, there was no arguing with truth.

xXx

Anakin woke with a sharp intake of breath a few hours later (at least Obi-wan thought it might have been a few hours, it was difficult to tell time in this place), but despite the obvious agony, he still managed to lock gazes with his master, eyes bright with pain and fever as he said through clenched teeth:

"Don't give her what she wants."

Obi-wan couldn't answer him. He could only look on with pity and shame. It took far too long for the Jedi Knight to force himself to talk to Anakin, and once he did he focused on trying to distract the boy from the anguish, no matter how it tore at the older man's dry, swollen vocal chords to do so. It didn't help much and Anakin seemed to be a little too out of it to really think normally and respond. Thankfully, the boy passed out again not too much later, leaving Obi-wan alone again.

He watched his Padawan in the dim light he suspected Ventress had left on just so he could see the evidence of what they'd done to the person who meant the most to him, and he knew he couldn't let it happen again. He couldn't watch the boy he considered his brother—his son—in pain. Next time they might do something irreparable…and it was his fault, well, his and Ventress'. Perhaps he could also assign some blame to Dooku and his Sith Master for starting this useless war to begin with as well, but most of Anakin's pain had come into being because of his Jedi Master and the Sith Acolyte who had captured them.

It wasn't Anakin's fault. He shouldn't be here, and Obi-wan realized that he would do _anything_ to get him away from here. Now.

As he had done an innumerable amount of times before, he tried to grasp at the Force, but the pain that lanced through his head refused to allow him access. He felt the last of his control slipping as his frustration grew. Jedi strived for a mastery of self, and he had worked so hard to accomplish that very goal, but the shame for what had happened, for his failures and his shortcomings, seemed to stomp out all of his hard-earned mastery.

_You could escape, if you took what is yours, what _belongs_ to you_, the mask seemed to whisper. _You could take your Padawan, your_ son,_ and leave this place. _

And he could. The idea of what he was contemplating made him sick, but it would only be this once. Just this once. And he would do it for Anakin because it was the _only way_.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," was all he could whisper. Then he took a deep breath and felt a single tear leak from his eye. He was surprised he had enough water in his body to allow that; his final tribute to the light he held so dear.

And then he stopped fighting the darkness.

xXx

He was surprised at how easily the twisted coldness came to him, still only in trickles because of the mask, but it was there none the less…and it felt _good. _Not the healing, warm goodness of the normal Force, but this coldness gave him something he couldn't have had just moments before, a power that made him feel as if he could do anything.

He had to draw on that power through the shame and guilt, had to practically order it to follow his wishes, but it seemed to want to eagerly comply once he demanded, and the negative emotions that had built inside of him recently only helped him to draw on that power.

His first thought went along the lines of, '_This isn't so bad_.' He'd been expecting himself to somehow change irreparably the moment he touched the darkness, but he didn't really feel any different, only stronger.

Still, he knew enough to be wary of such thoughts. He'd seen the damage the Dark Side could do, and he may feel he had no other choice at this point, but that didn't mean it would be a permanent thing. He already felt ashamed of his decision, which in turn fed the darkness, the cold fire that would allow him to get Anakin away from this nightmare.

The manacles that held him were Force resistant, but the link of the chains on the ceiling weren't. They came down with far more effort than he would have liked, but the awful restrictions that had held him up for so long still clattered loudly to the floor. He fell into the pile of his own waste that the guards hadn't so much as bothered to clean in weeks and immediately slumped shakily to the ground.

The weakness in his body frustrated him, building his connection to the darkness even more and he shuddered. It may not have been so bad, but he still felt tainted and unworthy somehow. He'd drawn on the Dark Side, so he was no longer a Jedi, but he could live with that if it meant getting Anakin away and healed.

He finally forced his hand to move and ripped the mask from his head, reveling in the small amount of freedom that brought him. The Force flowed around him and he sighed in relief at the feeling. Then he turned his focus on Anakin and had tore at the chains on the ceiling. He was horrified to realize that the power reacting to his call of the Force had not gone back to the normal warmth, but no matter how he focused, no matter how he tried to calm himself, the fleeting tendrils of light would not answer his call. He hesitated for only a moment, then realized that he would probably need all the strength he could get anyway, and the darkness filled him in a way nothing else could—he felt he could do _anything_.

Which was good because he still had to get Anakin down.

He went to tear the chains down again, but paused again as a thought occurred to him. If they were to escape, he couldn't just rush into this. Anakin was in pain. Anakin needed his help and that filled him with more guilt and anger. What she'd done to Obi-wan was one thing, something he could hate and despise but live with. What she'd done to Anakin was unforgivable. He would _not_ let her do it again.

Which meant he had to come up with a plan. It would have worked out better if he'd been able to hide his Force presence right away, but he'd been unable to do so immediately after the mask had come off. She had to know something was up, despite the fact that he'd only allowed that flare in the force for a fraction of a second. He'd hidden his presence as best he could as quickly as he could, but she would come anyway. He could already sense Ventress' dark (although not as dark as it had seemed before, but he refused to dwell on that implication, if only for his own sanity) presence coming towards them. If he could just draw her attention away for a few seconds…

Analytically he studied the situation, taking a mental step back and looking over the predicament as a whole. Ventress had undoubtedly felt his presence and would be here shortly. In his state right now, no matter how he felt about it, he really couldn't expect to put up a decent fight. He might be able to hold her off for a few minutes, but that would do him little good. He'd have to take her by surprise and end things quickly.

Fortunately, he had two weapons in the form of chains strapped to the manacles around his wrist. They wouldn't do much against a lightsaber, and truthfully he could barely lift them without help from the Force, but if he could get the jump on his captor, maybe he could somehow get one or both of her lightsabers. At least then they'd have a fighting chance.

He glanced around the room again, figuring where he could attack from that would give him the most chance of success. If he could lure her into the room, even if she was on alert, it would do a lot to even the odds.

So what could he use as a distraction?

And then a thought came to him. He glanced over at Anakin's limp body, checking through the Force to make sure he was still unconscious. Yes, this would work, and Anakin shouldn't remember any of it.

He ignored how muddled his thoughts suddenly felt, pushed aside the horror in his soul at the very idea he was contemplating, and stuck to the facts as best he could. Then he tore Anakin's chains from the ceiling with the Force. He couldn't do much to physically catch the boy as he fell, but was able to stop him from collapsing completely with the Force. From the strange angle of his Padawan's legs, it couldn't be comfortable.

He concentrated and lifted Anakin higher, moved him and the chain through the Force—a little more violently than he would have liked, but it got the job done—to the spot Obi-wan had been hanging from not minutes before and secured the chains above as best he could.

Then he forced himself to his feet, struggled out of the harsh cloak, ignoring the pain from his scabs being torn open yet again, and placed it over Anakin's head. Then he reached down to where he'd thrown the accursed mask and picked it up. He looked at the thick, dirty material in his hands for a few moments, fingers brushing over the thing with disgust. Then he turned to Anakin.

"I'm so sorry, Anakin," he whispered, and then shoved the mask onto his Padawan's head. He'd be able to get it off again soon, after all. As long as Anakin wasn't awake…Obi-wan just hoped that it didn't affect Anakin's dreams like it had affected his. He ignored the increase of guilt. After all, this would help them both in the long run.

Fortunately, Anakin didn't respond to the mask, and Obi-wan breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know if he could forgive himself if Anakin were to suffer as he had. He already couldn't forgive himself as it was.

That brought up the deep rage that burned so cold inside of him and he clenched his own disfigured hands angrily. Fortunately, it only made him feel more powerful, more like he could actually do what he had planned.

He walked to where Anakin had hung previously and levered himself onto the filthy floor. Now all he had to do was wait.

xXx

Timeline-

Beginning of 22 BBY – Attack of the Clones

End of 22 BBY – Battle of Jabiim and capture of Obi-wan and Anakin

Mid 21 BBY – Ahsoka comes into the picture

21 BBY – 19 BBY – Subsequent battles

End of 19 BBY – Revenge of the Sith (which will play out very differently…not necessarily for the better—you have been warned)

Messing with the timeline a bit, but I had to get both the comics and Clone Wars in here, so yeah.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Evil wins when good people do nothing to stop it". I have witnessed the truth of this statement. I have also witnessed the truth of the statement that "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions". I believe my Padawan has always had problems finding a happy medium between these two truths. I myself have had problems with them. After all, if one acts with the intent to stop evil but ends up dooming themselves and thus everyone they were trying to save, then one is living both statements. The solution is to act when you need to and to do so with a clear head and a larger picture in mind. It can be difficult to do so, but that was the conclusion I came to. I learned that lesson through witnessing the results of my rash actions far too many times in my life. _

_I have never come across a situation where that general rule of acting with patience and wisdom does not apply. When I became a Knight, I vowed to never act rashly again and I have tried to live up to that to this day. _

_Some lessons, it seems, are never really learned. _

It wasn't long (and yet it seemed like forever now that he could move again) before he heard Ventress' voice outside the door.

"Open it. Quickly!"

Obi-wan tensed, ignoring the shooting pains in his protesting, abused muscles. It took all too long for the door to swing open, and he found himself torn between a sort of giddy anticipation that was very much not like him and a solemn, grim determination that was.

Finally Ventress rushed in, not even sparing a look for the corner he crouched in, her eyes fixed solidly on Anakin's limp form. It would have been the perfect opportunity to attack if he didn't know she would have back up in the form of Adius, a cruel, spiteful man who liked causing pain almost more than she did. If Obi-wan wanted to fight Ventress on even footing then her muscled backup would have to be taken out first.

The man, a stocky, heavy-set humanoid with thin, dark hair sprouting out of his head in a greasy mess, stepped in only moments after his mistress and Obi-wan struck. He whipped his hand out and the chain wrapped firmly around the thick neck. He used every ounce of strength to yank the other man towards himself, putting some Force-enhancement behind the pull while simultaneously pushing the large body away from him with the Force.

The loud crack that rang throughout the room was far too satisfying. Ventress' surprised shout as the now dead man ran into her with some force even more so. However, the two simultaneous moves strained him more than he cared to admit and he knew he would have to be careful for the next few minutes if he wanted to survive. Reaching out, he pulled one of Ventress' lightsabers toward him. He tried for both but couldn't find the control he needed in his current state. He would have to end this quickly because he just didn't have the stamina to use his normal, patient and defensive Soresu.

Ventress and Adius stumbled into Anakin, eliciting a pained groan from him. Obi-wan refused to allow himself to wince at the noise, hoping he hadn't woken and choosing instead to focus on freeing his wrist from the shackles before the woman managed to regain her balance. He succeeded, although just barely because Ventress wasn't off guard for long.

With an angry cry and a flexibility that Obi-wan couldn't help but envy just a little, she flipped out of the way before she and Adius's body hit the ground. With a cry of rage, she came hurtling towards Obi-wan, who sidestepped her onslaught, knowing he couldn't meet it outright in the state his body was in. She whipped around before he could strike at the opening she'd given, bringing her saber up before she'd even managed to face him and parrying the blow he'd aimed at her back.

Then she faced him and returned the blow. He managed to fend her off and they broke apart, each watching the other warily and Obi-wan making sure he was between her and Anakin.

After a few moments, she calmed down enough to realize what had happened, taking in the site with new eyes. She blinked and glanced at her dead underling laying sprawled on the floor.

"Striking from behind? I'm impressed, Obi-wan. How utterly low of you."

Obi-wan grit his teeth but didn't answer.

After a moment of studying him, Ventress threw her head back and laughed, although she never lowered her guard and Obi-wan didn't dare attack anyway. After a few moments, during which time Obi-wan could only really tighten his grip around the lightsaber hilt, she stopped and grinned cruelly back at him.

"So, the great Jedi Obi-wan Kenobi has a breaking point after all," she said with no small amount of triumph. "How does it feel? Empowering, isn't it? Intoxicating and wonderful."

Obi-wan grit his teeth, refusing to acknowledge her and hating the truth in her words, despising the idea that anything about her would be something he could relate to. He still didn't answer, and that seemed to get to her because her smile dimmed quite a bit.

"Still too good to answer me?" she asked, her tone warning.

Obi-wan refused to move, even as she took a testing step forward.

"You'll regret that!" she growled as she lunged forward and thrust her saber out. Obi-wan parried as best he could, misdirecting her strikes, upset to see she was driving him back towards Anakin. He managed to lead her off to the side, ducking and dodging most of the time, but meeting blows where he could.

"How do I know you'll regret looking down on me?" she hissed as he met her blade and mentally begged his weakened muscles to not give in, throwing as much power behind the strokes as he possibly could. "Because I will take it out of your Padawan."

Before he could react, she'd disengaged and rushed towards Anakin, saber held high. Obi-wan felt a rush of panicked desperation.

"NO!" he yelled, thrusting out his hand and calling the Force to him. He had to stop her! Had to save Anakin! She flew past Anakin with a surprised yell and hit the wall of the chamber with a sickening thud that would have bothered him just the day before. It didn't now, and he hated that it _should_ still get to him. He hated that she'd driven him to this point; that she would do this to him! And he loathed that she would drag Anakin into this just to get to him!

He didn't release his hold on her, face twisted into a snarl as he advanced towards her, hand still outstretched. She would recover quickly enough, but while she was stronger in body, he was stronger in the Force. Yes, she'd been able to block him earlier, but she would have never had the opportunity if it had been any other situation. He would have to be out for the count before she could do that to him again, and he wasn't about to faint any time soon.

She could still retaliate with the Force, though, so he would have to end it now. He switched his hold from her torso to her neck almost without thought. Then he turned her around, he wanted to see her eyes as she died. He wanted—_needed—_to know this nightmare was over and that she wouldn't be a threat to him or Anakin ever again.

She had to die.

Her hands automatically went to her throat and Obi-wan squeezed tighter.

Then her eyes met his. "I…still…win," she managed to gasp out.

Obi-wan refused to listen to this…_thing_ any longer. He closed his fist and felt the snap through the Force. The intoxicating rush of power and the relief and pride in knowing that he'd managed to defeat her, even in this state left him gasping for breath even harder than he otherwise would have. For a moment he continued his hold on her, strangely unwilling to let go of that power. After a moment, though, he allowed her body to slump to the floor and stood over her, still glaring in hate.

"And I will survive," he said.

It took a few minutes for it to sink in. It was over. He was free to walk out of this nightmare with his Padawan…except he couldn't carry him and Anakin couldn't walk on his own with two broken legs. He'd have to find a solution to that…and now he was free to do so.

He simply stood there in a daze as his mind couldn't seem to process the thought that he wasn't being held captive anymore. He'd killed his captor—his tormentor…Anakin's torturer.

He looked down at the two bodies lying on the dirty floor and blinked.

"I can never go back," he said with sudden realization. "I thought I could use it…just once…how could I have been such a fool?"

He could feel the darkness saturating his soul. It was there…and it was all he had now.

He stood there for only a few seconds longer, forcing himself to come to terms with the consequences of the choice he'd made. He'd fallen to the Dark Side, but he'd had his reasons…and surprisingly, he could live with that.

Some part of him, he suspected, was recoiling in horror and despair at these turn of events, but the rest of him—an ingrained portion of his personality—recognized that his life had changed, that there was little he could do about it and that he still had things he had to do.

This was his life now, and he'd chosen it. It was more complicated than that, he knew, but for now he refocused on the situation and on what he had to do. He had to escape and that trumped everything else at the moment.

Face blank of emotion, he finally left, simply turned and walked out of the cell, leaving three bodies, only one of them living, in his wake.

xXx

He wasn't by any means steady on his feet, but he maneuvered along the dark halls with a purposeful expression. With his goal in mind, he cautiously reached out with the Force, not sure how to direct this new power. To his left a sort of pulse caused him to pause. He needed to go that direction. There was something there, in the cell just ahead, he couldn't quite tell… Igniting the lightsaber in his hands—what a disdainful weapon, the crystal was not at all combatable with him and he only used it because he had no other option at the moment—he slashed at the durosteel door and pushed it open with the Force as it would be far too heavy for his weakened body.

The beings inside scurried to the back of the cell, straining to get away from the door with a haste born of obvious experience. Obi-wan scrutinized them with a calculating eye. So that tug—those disturbances—had been people. How strange. They hadn't changed, and yet it felt so different. How interesting.

Of the prisoners, none looked to be what he needed at the moment.

"W-who are you?" one of the beings, a human by the looks of him, found the courage to ask.

"Ventress is dead," was all Obi-wan could deign to say. It was the first time he'd said it aloud, and he couldn't help but take a deep, satisfied breath. Then he turned from the room and continued to the next cell.

"W…what should we do?" another voice from behind him asked. Obi-wan paused and managed to turn enough to look at a second being, a torgruta from the looks of it, that had exited the cell. He couldn't identify the gender of the being through the filth covering it.

"Whatever you wish," Obi-wan said as if it were obvious (which, really, it should have been). "So long as you do not obstruct me."

With that said, he moved on to the next cell and slashed the door open. He was in luck. One of the beings in here seemed far healthier than the others. They probably hadn't been there long, and if he were correct, it was a besalisk.

"You," he said to the being. "Follow me."

Not waiting for a reply, he turned to leave the cell.

"You're not the warden and you're not the witch in charge, so why should I listen to you?" the contemptuous voice from behind him stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly, allowing his glare to settle on the being as he quickly processed the options at his disposal that would allow him deal with the being while still rendering him useful.

"Indeed I am not," he said simply. "However, I am the man who killed them." The being scoffed and he felt an impatience he hadn't had a problem with since he'd been an initiate rise inside of him. He did not have time for these trivial annoyances. That thought, in its own way, settled his inner dispute and decided his course of action.

He raised his hand and the besalisk smashed into the wall behind him.

"And you will join them if you do not do as I say," he continued coldly, stating the words as if they were a simple fact and nothing more.

The being managed to nod and Obi-wan dropped him. "Good."

Turning again, he maneuvered out the door as firmly as he could manage. Fortunately the besalisk wasn't stupid enough to try and attack Obi-wan from behind and the former Jedi led the larger being down the hall. The beings from the previous cell were nowhere to be seen. He only noted that with a passing thought, grateful that no one would impede him.

Obi-wan had the strange idea that he should be feeling more than desperation, a residual anger and satisfaction (and the guilt, _always_ the guilt), but nothing else seemed to want to come to him. He wasn't sure if the negative emotions were burying everything else or if, by just touching the Dark Side, he no longer had any capacity for feeling anything good or positive—other than the tainted satisfaction.

_Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny. _

It was something he would have to examine in detail later, once he got off this repulsive planet.

They made it back to Obi-wan's former cell and he felt the disgust and anger at what had happened there surge through him. With a growl he wasn't even aware he'd voiced, he shoved his hand out. The door flew off of its hinges and hit the wall inside the cell. He made sure it never touched Anakin.

"Didn't realize you Jedi could be so vio—" the besalisk cut off as Obi-wan raised an arm, not even bothering to try and look back. Two of the being's hands shot to his throat while the others flailed about in a panic.

"Do not voice your inane thoughts," he said, then added as if in an after thought. "And I am no Jedi." Not anymore. And he would examine exactly how he felt about that at a later date as well. Right now he had to get himself and Anakin out of here.

He managed to seem rather firm somehow as he walked through the destroyed doorway and froze at the sight of Anakin. How could he have forgotten that mask?! Angrily, he rushed forward and practically tore the thing from the boy's head. Then he turned on that awful lightsaber and slashed the torture device in two.

"Mas'er?" Anakin asked, his voice a blur of pain.

Obi-wan felt himself soften at the word. "It's me, Anakin. We're getting out of here."

And to his surprise, a small smile flitted across the younger Jedi's face. "'Bout time."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Obi-wan felt a flash of his old self; felt a twinge of the amused, wise, senior Knight with a somewhat average Jedi background. It surprised him as to how much even just that fleeting moment of familiar camaraderie helped him relax and caused the darkness to draw away ever so slightly.

"You have my apologies for taking so long."

Anakin snorted. "Knew you'd get us outta here 'ventually."

His Padawan's faith in him touched him, causing a genuine smile to brush across his own lips. It felt foreign but welcome.

And then it was over. The darkness rushed back in as Obi-wan turned to the besalisk. "I will cut him down. You will catch him, _gently_. Every injury he receives because of your carelessness I will repay twofold."

He didn't see the frown on Anakin's face as he was too focused on his reluctant helper.

"Fine, whatever," the reptilian creature muttered and walked forward, carefully stepping in the least dirty places on the floor. It was an exercise in futility that Obi-wan found he had little patience for.

"Today would be nice," he commented in a tone that most would call neutral, but anyone who knew him would note the undertone of a steel warning.

"Wa's wrong, mas'er?" Anakin slurred.

Obi-wan immediately turned to his Padawan, his face softening. "What do you mean, Anakin?"

The boy frowned. "You soun' different. You…feel different."

Obi-wan wasn't sure what to classify the stab of emotion he felt at that. It had had a rather large amount of guilt, but very little (if any) remorse. If any fear had found its way into the mix, it would be at the idea of Anakin somehow rejecting him, not at the idea that he had changed (which he would have expected). He felt other emotions in that stab as well, but couldn't afford to waste time on analyzing it at the moment as the besalisk had reached Anakin and taken him slowly into his rather large arms. Anakin hissed in pain at the movement, and Obi-wan had to restrain himself from taking off the creature's head. He still needed the being to carry Anakin, and from the worried looks he kept shooting Obi-wan, the besalisk was trying not to cause pain.

Forcing himself to be calm, he flipped the lightsaber on and cut off his Padawan's shackles. For a moment all he wanted to do was sag in relief. They were free, both of them, and they were leaving. The moment lasted for only a second, and then he steeled himself to walk out the door and away from his nightmarish prison for the last time, the besalisk carrying Anakin hurrying behind him.

xXx

Just wandering around the compound and following the hints and tugs through the Force allowed him to find his own lightsaber and about a dozen others as well. They also found a cloak for Obi-wan, something clean that covered his back and gave him some protection from the cool air, but he didn't dare to stop for anything else. He just wanted off the planet, and if continuing on in his nakedness would do so faster, then so be it.

Somewhere along the way, they also came across a statue of a man Obi-wan suspected had meant a lot to Ventress. If he had been in better shape, he would have left the thing as rubble. As it was, he just pushed it down with the Force and left it broken and toppled.

The darkness opened him to sensing other's feelings more deeply—well, the negative ones in any case—and he felt the besalisk's fear of him rise as he moved from the room. Good. It would just mean the being would follow his orders more exactly and be that much more careful with Anakin, who had thankfully passed out again.

By the time they found a ship Obi-wan was having a hard time hiding his exhaustion, standing through sheer will and the Force alone. His body ached in ways he didn't think were possible and all he really just wanted was to lie down and sleep for the next standard month. Despite his best efforts, his tired mind wondered if he _could_ sleep lying down at this point. He was so used to resting upright and hanging. Even now it hurt to even drop his hands to his sides because they had been shackled above his head for who knew how long and…when had he closed his eyes?

No, focus! He had to get Anakin out of here! Growling low in his throat he angrily berated himself and managed to get onto the ramp of the ship the Force had led him to. The door to the bay on the far side of the large room wasn't open, but he found that taking care of that with the Force was nothing if not a simple matter. Fortunately, as far as he could tell, there was no force field to keep them in, just the standard, one-way deflectors that kept unwanted guests and objects out.

He nodded in satisfaction and turned to the ship again. It wasn't anything that would stick in anyone's mind, a fairly small vehicle with nothing discernable on it at first glance. To just about anyone, it would simply look like a small freighter. They couldn't know that it was stocked with illegal guns and maneuvering capabilities, at least at Obi-wan's best guess. It wasn't Ventress' usual ship, but he doubted the woman would have had anything that wasn't top-of-the-line when it came to attack and maneuverability in her fleet.

He continued and forced himself up the ramp towards the top where the besalisk holding a still unconscious Anakin watched with a sort of fascinated wariness. He was undoubtedly impressed with Obi-wan's manipulation of the door to the bay, but the former Jedi found he really didn't care.

"In a ship that size, there should be at least one room," Obi-wan said almost conversationally. Really he only wanted to remind the being that he had duties to attend to if he wanted to stay alive. The fact that he had stopped and stared instead of taking Anakin somewhere to rest caused another shot of annoyance to flare through the bearded man but he, again, forced himself to ignore it. "Find it and place Anakin on the bed."

"Y-yeah, sure. Whatever you say," the being stuttered. It was a refreshing change from the defiant, misguided superiority he'd displayed before.

"Oh, and once you finish, I suggest you leave the ship," the former Jedi spoke up again, this time in a harsher tone. "If I find you on it at any point hereafter, you will wish you had listened."

The large being gulped and nodded hurriedly before turning and disappearing inside the vehicle and Obi-wan nodded in satisfaction. Even when the besalisk wasn't there the former Jedi refused to allow himself to relax. If he did so now, he doubted he'd be able to put on a front again and he dared not show any weakness until he left this cursed place once and for all.

Instead, he closed his eyes and searched through the room with the Force. He felt nothing out-of-the-ordinary. This was undoubtedly a private dock because no maintenance workers had been here recently as far as Obi-wan could tell. It was all run by droids.

Speaking of…

"You," Obi-wan said to a still droid against the wall. It was humanoid, with a durosteel frame and many accessories as well as several appendages ending in various tools. The droid in question came out of low-power mode almost immediately and looked at Obi-wan.

"Me, sir?" it asked, sounding rather cranky.

"Yes," Obi-wan said. "Programming."

"I am L9-292, programmed for maintenance, upkeep and determining flight capability of the ships that dock here."

"Can you pilot a ship."

If a droid _could_ look offended, this one did. "Yes, sir."

"Very good. Follow me."

"Excuse me, sir, but you are not my mistress."

Obi-wan had whirled around before he realized it and had the droid in a Force grip. The droid squirmed in a simulation of panic.

"No, I am not," Obi-wan said with a cold calmness he did not feel. "You won't have to worry about her, though, seeing as I killed her. Now you have two choices: One, you come with me and you do as I say. Two, I tear you apart and move on to the next droid. It is up to you."

The droid stopped squirming and stared with lighted eyes at Obi-wan. "If my masters or mistresses die, I am programmed to follow the person in charge. Seeing as you killed her, I will defer to you."

Obi-wan smiled a fake, empty smile. "Excellent choice."

He turned around just in time to see the besalisk hurry off the ship and high-tail it out of the bay. Obi-wan briefly considered killing the being, but ultimately decided that it didn't matter if he survived or not and that ignoring him would be faster.

Decision made, he led the droid onto the ship and closed the ramp. It didn't take long to reach the cockpit, and the controls were familiar enough that Obi-wan had little trouble piloting the freighter away from planet, which was fortuitous as he was having trouble remaining alert. Curse his abused body! Curse Ventress to the deepest depths of pain and torment for the rest of eternity for what she did to him.

With the droid's help, he managed to set the ship on a course to a neutral system that would have the resources to help them before he stumbled into the back and passed out before he could even reach the sleeping area opposite of where Anakin lay.


	3. Chapter 3

_The very nature of the Dark Side is hate. Every Jedi is taught this, but I don't think anyone who has never touched the darkness can even begin to comprehend the concept for the simple reason that their mind-set—their very way of thinking—is completely in opposition to the Dark Side and everything it stands for. _

_Let me explain. Beings in general tend to seek that which makes their lives better, whether that is love, joy, comfort, peace of mind, peace in genera, freedom, etc., most beings instinctually try to obtain that which will improve their situation. Even those who seek power and money tend to want a sense of control that will lead to their peace of mind or comfort. _

_When someone truly embraces the Dark Side, though, they must have at least some (usually much more) hate in their hearts. No matter what led them to make the choice to turn, they cannot consciously do so without that spark of intense resentment as there is no other way to tap into the power the Dark Side represents. The more hatred one has, the more of the darkness one can use. So, in conclusion, to gain more of a connection to the darkness, one must learn to seek after that which makes their lives worse. It is a conundrum because one must learn to at least tolerate—if not outright embracing—the pain and misery that hate brings to gain that positive element they were originally seeking after—in this case, power and control._

_The whole idea is mind-blowing and not at all logical, and so it makes no sense to one who has never turned to the darkness. Therefore, no one who has ever not been there—no true light Jedi or non-Force Sensitive—can ever truly understand. _

When Obi-wan awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he couldn't physically feel anything. Instead, he seemed numb and withdrawn from his surroundings. For a moment, that worried him and he reached out to the Force only to recoil from it when he found it dark and cold. Still, he could at least feel that and he could use it and that was a relief in and of itself.

The next thing he noticed, when he managed to actually pry his eyes open, was that everything was white; so white it hurt to look at. He flinched away from the brightness too, closing his eyes so quickly he could almost hear the snap. So he was in a medbay. That made sense, he supposed.

The third thing he noticed was that while his ability to feel seemed to be coming back slowly, he could hear just fine. This he could tell because a door somewhere had whooshed open. Somehow he didn't think anyone would come by when he was waking up by happenstance, so they must have had some sensor that would inform them when he regained consciousness. That did not sit well with him. The idea of being monitored, even in a medbay, had his nerves yelling at him to get out. He tried to move, but all he could really seem to do was turn his head to watch a figure approaching and try to sit up—try being the operative word. He wasn't quite able to push himself into a sitting position and so he could only watch as the being stopped near his bed.

At first, all he could tell was that the person wore a white robe and looked humanoid. After a few seconds, his eyes finally focused enough to allow him to see the details on the figure. It was a woman in her mid-40's by Obi-wan's guess. She had short, graying hair pulled back into a messy bun and sparkling eyes. She also looked altogether too happy.

"Hello," the woman said, her voice deep and calming. "I'm Healer Kittar and you're in the Hopeful View Hospital on Haadrian."

Right, he'd set the coordinates for a small, out-of-the-way system that most likely wouldn't be involved in the war. He'd half expected to die on the way here and wasn't sure whether he should be glad that he'd made it.

That reminded him. "There was someone else with me," he said in a voice that was all too raspy.

"Ah, yes, your young friend," she said with no small amount of sympathy in her voice. Obi-wan felt a stab of fear.

"Is he alright?" he asked, feeling that fear melt into anger. If these people hadn't done their job and saved Anakin's legs…

"Oh yes. He'll be fine. I can't really tell you much without breaching patient confidentiality, but we expect he'll make a full recovery eventually."

"What do you mean, eventually?" Obi-wan asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.

The healer shook her head. "I can't tell you any specifics unless you're his guardian—"

"I am," Obi-wan verified.

She raised an eyebrow at him, now looking both amused and a little annoyed. "Then I'll need your full name and RIDN*. We can verify your identity, contact whoever you need us to contact—"

"No," the former Jedi cut in. The idea of the Temple knowing anything about him at the moment…if they knew what he'd done… He couldn't stop the shame and guilt from rising within him and it took all of his self discipline to push it aside for now.

"Then it will be up to him to give details," she said with a nonchalant shrug.

And knowing Anakin, he'd leave the worst parts out. That wouldn't do at all. So Obi-wan smiled as nicely as he could and waved a hand. "I am paying for this, and I am his guardian, so you can tell me."

She resisted for a moment, seeming to second guess before looking down at the chart in front of her.

"I can tell you," she said. Obi-wan smirked. "His broken legs were difficult to treat. Compound fractures, bone fragments everywhere…" she shuddered and Obi-wan felt his stomach clench in fear but forced himself to remain quiet as the healer continued. "We had to fuse some of the bone fragments together and then had to extract the rest or burn them away with lasers, but he should make a solid recovery. He may have some minor pain for a period of time in the area where we had to mend the bones, but it won't be anything debilitating. You, on the other hand…" she paused and shook her head. Obi-wan didn't like the pitying expression he could see in her eyes. He was, however, impressed with how quickly she'd thrown off the mind trick and changed the subject. Maybe it was a trait of the Dark Side. He thought he'd heard somewhere that the effects tended to be more temporary when using it to influence another person.

"Your friend won't tell me what happened to you two, but I can guess," she went on. "He was brought in first and with all of those burns and bruises on top of those intentionally broken legs, well we thought it might be abuse. Then you came in. I don't think you realize how miraculous it is that you're alive right now."

Obi-wan scoffed. "That would depend on your definition of 'miraculous'."

The healer's smile faded and she looked at Obi-wan worriedly for a few moments before going on. "Indeed. Well as bad as your friend was, you were in far worse shape. We've had to keep you under while we allowed you to heal. We've had to reconstruct the muscles on your shoulders and back and you'll need therapy if you want to use them properly again. You have had a total of three dips in a bacta tank and are scheduled for at least four more. We've been able to minimize the permanent damage and treat the infections in all of the lacerations as well as the burns, but I'm afraid you will still have some scarring in several places.

"However, on the bright side, you are definitely out of the woods and if you follow your therapy, you can make a full recovery as well. Be warned that you will need to be patient and consistent, and that it will take a while, but it is definitely possible. We actually have three facilities for you to choose from once you finish your next bacta treatment. Whichever facility you choose will be starting you on solid foods."

Obi-wan clenched his teeth. He hated stays in the healer's wing, but he also knew that listening to the healer usually meant a faster or at least more complete recovery. That didn't mean he had to like it. And he _really_ didn't like it.

"Well, that's a summary of everything. Do you have any questions?" the healer asked, drawing Obi-wan's focus back to her. Normally he would have enjoyed her relaxed, personable attitude, but right now it just annoyed him.

"When can I see Anakin?" he asked.

The woman smiled again, causing the few lines at the corners of her eyes to crinkle. "He's actually been asking after you since he woke up. He's been in to see you several times, as a matter of fact, and he's due to come in after he eats, if his constant requests are anything to go by. That should be about a galactic standard hour or so."

"How long have we been here?"

The woman's smile faded ever so slightly. "About two and a half galactic standard weeks."

"Thirteen days***?" Obi-wan probed, wanting exact numbers.

"Fourteen."

That more than anything drove home just what shape his body had been in. He clenched his hands in anger as memories of what the witch had done to him rose to the forefront of his mind.

He forced them back, though, taking deep breaths and refusing to give into the emotions. Putting on a blank face, he turned to the woman again. Her smile had disappeared and she looked rather wary.

"Are you a Jedi?" she asked.

He frowned. "Why do you ask?"

She glanced around the room. "Things started shaking just a second ago and I could swear I've seen things move on their own around your friend."

Obi-wan followed her glance and studied the room himself but saw nothing out of place. Still, he had no doubt that she'd spoken the truth and if that were the case then he would have to work on his control. If he were still a Jedi, this wouldn't be a problem. It seemed, though, that the Dark Side was far different than even he had imagined. His control exercises did not seem to work nearly as well. Then again, he really shouldn't have expected any different.

He'd also have to talk to Anakin about casual use of the Force again, it seemed.

"No," he finally said. "I have some talent with using the Force, but I'm no Jedi."

She studied him carefully for a few moments before nodding. "I see. Well, that explains the high medichlorian count."

So they'd taken and analyzed his blood after all. But then, why did she have to ask if he was a Jedi? If they'd tried to match his blood with the galactic data base…but then again, many planets that had declared neutrality or had broken off to join the Seperatists. Most of those planets had been denied access to the Republic's databases. They could still petition for something if they wished, but the process was long and arduous without someone in the Senate to speak for their cause.

"Yes," he finally replied, his voice neutral. Then he decided to continue with the question he'd wanted to ask earlier, before she'd brought up his status as a Force user. "How long will our recovery take?"

She looked down at the data pad in her hand. "Your friend, Anakin, can leave at any time. As long as he keeps the leg braces on for the next four weeks or so, he shouldn't have a problem. Between your muscle therapy, malnutrition and other healing, I would say you'll be at the care facility for the next two galactic standard months. Probably closer to three."

Not likely. Jedi tended to heal faster than normal beings. Then again, he wasn't a Jedi anymore. Would that make a difference? He suspected so. Still, he found little use in dwelling on what he could only guess at right now. "Will the account number I instructed our droid to give you have sufficient funds?"

The woman raised an eyebrow, smirking ever so slightly. " Surprisingly, yes, at least according to the statements from the bank holding your account. Normally I don't discuss anything financial with my patients, but due to your lack of insurance we had to ask if the account would cover the funds. From what they said, I don't think you'll have a problem paying for anything you need for quite some time, which is extremely good because long-term care can get rather expensive without insurance. Sadly, we run into the problem quite a lot. Most people don't realize that most insurances don't cover that kind of care.** Especially off-planet insurances."

She paused and shook her head with a smile, as if to apologize. "I'm sorry for getting side tracked. If you want more information I can have our account manager speak with you."

"If you could," he answered, noting how cold and dead his tone sounded with a curious disapproval. Still, it was better than angry or dangerous. Perhaps he had more control than he realized. Or perhaps it was just a different kind of control? Or perhaps his new source of power was what was really different; darker and colder and inherently so unlike the calm warmth he was so used to. Of course it wasn't responding exactly like the normal Force. It was similar enough that he had no doubt he could adapt, but it was also just different enough to give him problems.

But it had been worth Anakin's life. Anakin was safe now and Obi-wan was safe now…and that's what really mattered, wasn't it?

It was getting hard to think again, so he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind for later contemplation. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

"You're undoubtedly still tired," Healer Kittar said with a soft smile back in place. "Why don't you rest. I'll inform Anakin that you're awake and we can work everything out from there."

For some reason, it bothered him that she expected him to follow her suggestion, but he forced the strange sensation down with a curt nod and allowed his body to relax. He'd never admit how good it felt. He remembered hearing the door open again as the healer left, but he didn't remember much after that.

xXx

When he woke up again, it was to a steady beating of a heart monitor…and he couldn't help but blink at the use of the ancient (if effective) technology he had only read about in history holos. And how had he not noticed that when he'd woken before? Then again, he could barely remember his conversation with the healer, just the important details, and he had to strain for even those.

Anakin sat by his bed side reading a data pad. It had been easier for Obi-wan to open his eyes this time, but he couldn't focus on that, or how much better he felt now, or anything else really, except the relief that his Padawan—his charge—was safe, and he could see that with his own eyes.

Involuntarily, he relaxed, feeling the tension leak out of him with the breath he released. Anakin must have noticed because he glanced over at Obi-wan, and then he was at his master's side.

"Master?" he asked softly but warily, as if he didn't expect Obi-wan to answer him back.

"Anakin," he responded, or tried to. His voice came out a little slurred but thankfully still recognizable and he could already feel his control over the muscles returning to him. "So glad you're safe."

"Thanks to you," the younger man said with a smile. "If you keep this up, you might actually catch up with me."

Obi-wan scoffed. "I would think this puts me ahead, actually."

Anakin rolled his eyes, shaking his head good naturedly and Obi-wan marveled at how_ normal_ he felt at the moment. It was a good feeling—something that seemed so foreign after his recent months—and he suddenly wanted nothing more than for this moment to last. He took a few seconds to commit everything he felt right then to memory so he could revisit this scene again in the future. That turned out to be an intelligent course of action because Anakin had always been one to speak his mind and tended to bring the conversation around to the proverbial hutt in the room rather quickly.

"I don't know if you know, so I'll tell you, we're on a small planet called Haadrian," Anakin said in the bored tone he used for debriefing. "It's actually a base for the mining that goes on in the system and has several colonies on it, even though it isn't a naturally habitable planet."

Obi-wan knew that. He'd known a little about the system and had read a quick summary on it before putting the coordinates into the nav computer. It had little more than mining facilities and healing facilities, and for some reason the healing facilities were known to be extremely good for the type of budget they had. Why they had been set up here or how the strange relationship between the healers and the miners had come into being Obi-wan did not know. He hadn't exactly had time to read up on the planet's history before passing out.

"It is a neutral system," Anakin continued, "and not connected to Courscant's holonet, which is probably a good thing, seeing as I would have tried to contact the Temple before I found out about the orders you gave the droid to give to me. Between those and their declaration as neutral, well, they didn't want to let me near a com station even before they found out you didn't want to contact the Temple."

Then he turned and eyed his master warily. "Why, Master? Why don't you want me to let the Temple know that we're alive? And why don't you want these people to know who we are?"

Obi-wan didn't answer for several seconds. On one hand, he was pleasantly surprised that Anakin had figured out his motivation. On the other hand, how was he supposed to tell Anakin that he wasn't going back to the Temple? How could he explain that he couldn't face them—his friends and compatriots—again? The guilt and shame would utterly destroy him then.

And since when was he such a coward? He knew he couldn't run forever, but then, he still had things he had to do before he could go before the Jedi Council and confess—and he was surprised that he actually had every intention of doing so. They wouldn't let him out of their sight once he went to them—and maybe they could even help him, except that all the teachings stated that once he started down the dark path, he couldn't come back. Even now he still couldn't seem to reach out to the warm light; it wouldn't answer his call. He couldn't dismiss the thought from his head that the Force deemed him unworthy now and that he would never be able to have that comforting peace again. He could hope that the Jedi could help him return, but at the very least he would be withdrawn from the war, and he couldn't allow that. He had to protect Anakin; had to keep his charge safe. To accomplish that goal, he would have to destroy the separatist leaders, which meant he would have to go after the Sith. That was the only thing that would guarantee Anakin at least had the chance to live his life. And he would. Obi-wan would see to that.

But how could he tell all of that to Anakin?

Just when he thought the shame couldn't get any worse…

He realized Anakin was staring at him in a strange sort of disbelief.

"You feel different, Master," he said quietly, almost as if he didn't believe what he'd said. Obi-wan looked away. What could he say? If he told Anakin what he'd done, Anakin would demand to know why, and then he'd blame himself. Could Obi-wan do that to his Padawan? Put him through similar pain he himself was going through? The pain he would now have to live with for the rest of his life?

But then could he lie to Anakin? Openly and blatantly and with every intention of never telling him the truth?

Anakin leaned back and stretched casually, as if he'd sat in place for too long. "Please, Master. I don't know what happened, but it can't be that bad," Anakin said with just a little too much nonchalance. Obi-wan read the underlying message. _It couldn't possibly be worse than what we've just been through together. _If only he knew…and yet Obi-wan couldn't see himself explaining that to Anakin. He didn't want to explain or even acknowledge it himself.

So he did what he usually did when he couldn't rationalize something away, he kept silent. Usually when he got into this kind of a mood, Anakin left him alone until he could sort out his thoughts. This time, though, his Padawan must have sensed the subtle difference between their current circumstances and anything that had happened before because he didn't seem to have any intention of backing down.

"Master, please, tell me what happened."

Although he did sound less flippant and more worried now. Obi-wan felt his gut clench. Anakin used that soft, pleading voice so rarely these days, but he still could not seem to muster the motivation or courage to explain.

"Fine," Anakin said after a moment, his voice thick with annoyance and stubborn determination. "I'll just go contact the Council after all."

With that, he stood and turned to stride to the door, the braces on his legs allowing him to walk almost normally. Obi-wan felt a flash of fear race through his heart. If Anakin commed the Jedi Temple, then they would send someone out to look them over and retrieve them. No, he couldn't let that happen!

"Don't," he said, his voice slightly dangerous and with more than a little warning to it.

Anakin either didn't recognize the tone or ignored it as he turned his mulish frown on his master. "Why not?"

"I have my reasons."

"And they are?"

Obi-wan glared at his apprentice for a few minutes before folding his hands calmly on his lap, his outward serenity belying the desperation that coursed through him in a sort of throb of power. It would take him a while to get used to all of this terrible, damaging emotion connecting him to the Force and consequently giving him more confidence; something relitively positive from something so negative. It was all a horrible, twisted duplicity that he was having a difficult time truly comprehending. No wonder Sith were so depraved.

"Don't you trust me, Anakin?" he whispered and tried not to feel even _more_ guilt at the stung look on his Padawan's face.

"Of course I do, Master."

"Then why are you questioning me? Can you just follow my wishes this once?"

At first Anakin stood there looking like he had just after he'd come to the Jedi Temple, small, lost and floundering. Back then, Obi-wan would have reached out to lend support. Now, though, that wouldn't work to his favor, so he simply kept his head down, as if looking away from his apprentice in disappointment, positive that Anakin wouldn't notice Obi-wan studying him out of the corner of his eyes.

Then, the younger Jedi's countenance changed, and he straightened his back, folding his arms in front of his chest and frowning.

"I'm questioning you because you're not acting like normal," he said bluntly. Typical Anakin. In any other case, Obi-wan would have snorted derisively. This time, though, the turned his head and looked Anakin directly in the eyes.

"After my experiences, would you not expect that I would change."

"Which is why I'm worried!" Anakin said in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. "You're so different! It's like...like you're not you at all! Except you are…but…" he trailed off, face turning red with frustration at his inability to put his thoughts into words.

Despite himself, Obi-wan felt touched. "Anakin, you don't need to worry about me. Shouldn't it be the other way around? The apprentice shouldn't have to worry about the master."

Anakin actually pouted at that. Obi-wan wondered for about the millionth time when his young charge would grow up. And yet, he also found the boy's actions endearing and amusing.

"That might be easier if you didn't get yourself into situations that you need to be rescued from," Anakin muttered. This time, Obi-wan couldn't help the slight sigh or the smile that escaped him. They sat there in silence for a few moments, each entertaining their own thoughts before Anakin's expression melted back to marginally worried.

"You really don't want me to contact the Temple?"

Obi-wan's own smile disappeared. "No."

"Fine, but you _still_ owe me an explanation."

And the worst part about that was the fact that he really did. Obi-wan wondered if he would get used to the awful guilt and shame that seemed to increase every time he opened his mouth.

"Later, Anakin."

The boy sighed, but must have realized that he wouldn't get anything else out of his master, because he plopped back into the chair and reached for the data pad again.

"Can you at least tell me how we escaped?"

Obi-wan tensed, despite himself. Of course, Anakin _would_ ask a question like that. He'd see it as changing the subject, but all it really did was touch on what Obi-wan didn't want to talk about.

He couldn't seem to make himself answer, and Anakin's frown deepened.

"How did you get past Ventress?" he pressed. Why was he being so pushy today? Then again, it was Anakin, but couldn't he just drop it for once? Maybe if he just told Anakin the truth he would be able to shut the boy up. Then he realized just how mean and thoughtless that idea was and he couldn't help but sigh. No, he couldn't lie to Anakin. To anyone else, maybe, but if he were in Anakin's shoes, he would want to know the truth too. He just wasn't sure when he could actually say it all aloud or what would happen if he did…

"She's dead," he finally said, hoping that would just let the whole matter be over and done with. He should have known better. He blamed his still recovering body because he suddenly felt so tired…

"What?! How?" Anakin asked, sitting straighter.

Obi-wan looked down at his hands, remembering the feel of the power that had enveloped him as he squeezed the life out of her; how good and simultaneously sickening it had been and how part of him—if he really were honest with himself—had actually _enjoyed_ the feeling.

Just what kind of a monster had he become? He had perverted what his master had done his best to teach and…oh, and how could he ever hope to honor Qui-gon's memory now? The man who had been so good and light and both of his apprentices now had fallen to the darkness. The results couldn't possibly reflect what Qui-gon had taught. He hated the idea of him having anything in common with Xanatos and yet, if his master had been alive, Obi-wan would have hurt him just as badly (if not worse) than his first Padawan had.

Had Xanatos felt the way he did now? How about Dooku? Is that what Obi-wan had to look forward to? A complete and utter subversion of anything he'd ever been and everything he stood for? Would he start _seeking out _people simply to kill them? To get that rush of power and control and…

_I killed her_, Obi-wan suddenly thought. For some reason, it hadn't seemed to really sink in, but now, sitting there with Anakin watching him, it struck him. _Oh, Force, I killed her, in cold blood! I need to leave! Anakin needs to leave! I can't let him see me like this! I'll never be able to change back to what I was before, nothing will ever be the same, everything is ruined forever and I chose this! Oh Force…_"

He couldn't seem to get enough air and the monitor's beeping had sped up.

"Master?" Anakin asked, almost sounding on the verge of panic, but Obi-wan couldn't face him, couldn't look at him when all he could think about was how he'd failed everyone around him and how he had, on some level, _liked_ it.

"Oh, Force," he breathed, putting his hands over his eyes.

"Master?!" Anakin said again, this time sounding even more worried somehow. Obi-wan was vaguely aware of the whoosh of the door opening and hurried footsteps.

"What happened?" an unfamiliar but obviously masculine voice asked.

"I don't know!" Anakin almost wailed. "We were just talking and then…this! What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," the voice replied. Then solid footsteps towards him. _No_! He did _not_ want anyone remotely close to him! He almost flung the other being back with the Force, but somehow managed to clamp down on that urge, recognizing that that would only make the whole situation worse. Instead he shied back, physically moving away from the dull presence that was approaching even as it continued to speak. "It could be a panic attack, he could be reliving a flashback, he could be having a physical reaction to something—although that is unlikely." The unfamiliar voice seemed to be listing things off more to himself than to Anakin, the rational part of Obi-wan somehow registered vaguely in the back of his mind.

"A what?!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"NO!" Anakin's indignation and anger was not helping Obi-wan at the moment, not that there was any way for the boy to know that.

"Please, sir, I have to—"

"Not happening."

The words brushed by Obi-wan's senses barely noticed. He could only feel the frustration and panic behind the voices and it only served to feed his own similar feelings. He could swear the world was closing in on him, around him…and where was his peace? His serenity? It wasn't there! And he could never have it again! Would he be left feeling like this forever? Like he had been set adrift on Kamino's seas without any sort of control? He didn't have the calm anymore, so what did he have left? Nothing but darkness and anger and hate and guilt...always the guilt. The soul-crushing, ever increasing guilt—

_No!_ he told himself firmly, clamping down on his steadily rising panic with all of his will. The calm didn't come naturally to him now, but that didn't mean he would lose his head. He may not be a Jedi anymore, but he was still Obi-wan Kenobi and he would not simply lie down and let the darkness consume him. He would have to fight for his state of calm, so fight he would—even if his opponent was himself.

He forced himself to pause in his breathing and let the air in his lungs out until he began to see spots creep in on the edges of his vision before he allowed himself to take another lung full of air. He felt his muscles begin to relax and focused on taking long, even breaths. Force this would take some adjustment. He kept realizing that over and over again as the little differences began to stand out.

"I'm fine," he finally managed to say (quite calmly too, if he did say so himself), interrupting the continuing argument between his Padawan and the nurse-healer who had come in. Anakin had, to his credit, negotiated to stay in the room while the healer did what he had to do to help the former Jedi Knight.

Obi-wan glanced over at them to see they had both shut their mouths and were staring at him. Anakin looked like he wanted to break the temporary—if deafening—silence, but the healer beat him to it.

"You'll excuse me if I don't take your word for that," he said dryly, either ignoring or not seeing the dirty look Anakin shot him. Before Obi-wan could protest, the nurse—a _bothan_ of all beings (not that he had anything against the information-gathering species, but he'd never heard of one going into a medical field off of their own planet)—walked back over to the bed and began to take his vitals. For the second time in five minutes, it took every ounce of self control Obi-wan possessed to not either flinch away or attack the being for his sudden approach, but if he could control the panic, then he could control his reactions too. He wasn't really surprised at how difficult that control was though.

After forcing himself to remain still for a few seconds, he allowed himself to glance over at Anakin. What he saw puzzled him.

Normally, Obi-wan could read Anakin's emotions like an open book. He could tell when the boy hid things, when he was tired, cranky, annoyed, upset, excited, happy and any one of a hundred other emotions or combinations thereof. Obi-wan knew Anakin had always believed his Master couldn't see the thoughts he wore so openly (for some unfathomable reason) and had simply let Anakin continue to believe he'd hidden that facet of his emotions because Obi-wan had wanted Anakin to trust him; to come to him when necessary, so he had never forced the issue.

That had changed after Geonosis. Something had transformed somehow within Anakin, and Obi-wan didn't know what. He'd tried to confront his Padawan, with less than spectacular results. So Obi-wan had been forced to change tactics because he'd finally realized that Anakin would never really talk to him…and that had hurt both in the fact that his Padawan didn't trust him, and the fact that his method of encouraging their Master/Padawan relationship had basically backfired. Obi-wan could always tell what Anakin was feeling, but he rarely knew why.

Except, right now, he couldn't read Anakin's expression, and in a strange, poetic sort of exchange, he knew why. Obi-wan had never panicked before, at least not in front of Anakin. It was unusual for him, and he had little doubt that Anakin had caught it, no matter what the healer said. The boy had never been focused on solving or planning or figuring things out, but that did not mean that he was, by any means, stupid. When he put his brain to use, he could give Obi-wan a run for his credits in that area.

"Well, your vitals have basically returned to normal," the nurse said, interrupting Obi-wan's thoughts and sounding almost annoyed—which, in turn, annoyed Obi-wan. What in the Galaxy could the being possibly be annoyed about? "I'd still like to contact healer Kittar and discuss possible treatments if instances like these continue."

"Trust me," Obi-wan said in a frosty tone. "They won't." He couldn't let them…

"Nevertheless," the bothan said as he straightened, "it is my job to report this."

"Yeah, thanks," Anakin said suddenly with a half-hearted smile at the healer. Obi-wan blinked. Had Anakin actually just stepped in as a mediator? It had been awkward and blunt (typical Anakin), but Obi-wan found it more than a little strange that their roles had, even if only temporarily, switched.

"Let us know what she thinks," Obi-wan said with forced politeness. A few of the other Jedi had begun to call him 'The Negotiator' before he'd been captured by Ventress. While he'd felt the title had been a bit ridiculous, he was not about to give his niche up because his source of power had changed. If he couldn't control that source now, then he would learn, because he refused to lose any more of himself—he'd lost far too much as it was.

The bothan eyed both of the Jedi for a moment before he seemed to simply accept that he probably wouldn't understand anyway and just nodded at his patients before turning and walking out of the room.

"What was that?" Anakin asked after the door had closed. His voice was dry but tinged with more than a little concern; concern that Obi-wan really didn't deserve. He had chosen this, after all. Once again, he tried to reach for the light and warmth of the normal Force, but again only the wild iciness met his efforts. Was this why Jedi who fell tended to stay fallen? Not because they chose to continue on their path, but because they couldn't reach the light again? That certainly made sense, but Obi-wan had had brushes with the Dark Side before. Why could he return to the light then but not now? Because it had been more of an instinct before whereas this time it had been a conscious choice? Did the darkness corrupt that utterly?

And right then, Obi-wan realized that Anakin had to leave him. He could not continue to corrupt Anakin…at least not until Obi-wan had more control over the darkness. Besides, seeing the look on the Padawan's face made the former Jedi realize that he was the center of Anakin's concern, and it was only worrying the boy more, which in turn was making Obi-wan more upset which only aggravated his condition and that was at least part of the reason why his control was shot to the netherworld. Anakin had to get away from here—away from him and away from the darkness that Obi-wan now represented.

The thought reasserted itself over and over in his mind. He couldn't allow the darkness to taint Anakin.

"I…don't know," Obi-wan heard himself answer, and didn't even blink at the lie. He had a part to play, and if there was anything he had skill concerning, it was acting. If he had a second skill, it was planning, and a close third would have to be manipulation.

"Master, this isn't normal," Anakin started, but Obi-wan cut him off.

"Just what about this entire situation is _normal_?" the older man asked, his voice wry and just a tad angry. Anakin closed his mouth, but he didn't lose that stubborn glint in his eye.

So Obi-wan forced himself to relax and deflate. "You wanted to know why I don't want to go back to the Temple. It's because it will only remind me of who I used to be—who I was before _she_ managed to get a hold of me. I think I just need some time to recover before I go back, Anakin. I don't want to have another one of those…episodes I just had in front of the Council." And there was more than a little truth to his statement. Anakin must have sensed that because he deflated too.

"Then we'll stay here until you're ready to go," he said in a surprisingly understanding tone.

Obi-wan closed his eyes in supposed defeat and looked away.

"What is it, Master?" Anakin asked, just as Obi-wan had known he would.

"I can't stay here, no matter how much I want to. The rest of the galaxy shouldn't have to wait for us to come back because I was stupid enough to get captured."

A ripple through the Force let Obi-wan know that Anakin hadn't taken that well. The manipulation was blatant and obvious, at least to Obi-wan, but fortunately Anakin had never had much of an eye for spotting such things.

"That could have happened to anyone! Besides, you're not going back! You won't be able to help anyone if you collapse or suddenly panic in the middle of a fight! You need to stay here and rest! Recover and then you and I can go save the universe."

"But there are so many worlds that need us, Anakin," Obi-wan said, his voice quiet and pained. It wasn't difficult for him to inject that tone into his words, even if the reasoning would be different from what Anakin would assume.

Anakin shook his head vehemently. "No, Master! You said so yourself. You just need to stay here and rest."

"That isn't a luxury I have," Obi-wan said with a sigh.

"No, it's necessary!" Anakin insisted. Then he paused and ran a hand through his hair. "If it really bothers you that much, then I'll go. I'll let the Temple know that you're alive and healing. When you're ready you can come back."

Obi-wan turned his head quickly to fix his gaze on his Padawan. "No, Anakin, you need to rest just as much as I do—"

"No, I don't," Anakin cut in with a roll of his eyes. "I need these braces, and that's it. I've been itching to get out of here anyway. They won't let me tinker with any of their droids and I am _so_ booored!"

And wasn't that just like Anakin too?

Obi-wan made a show of contemplating Anakin's words before he finally shook his head with a sigh. "As much as I want to disagree with you, you're right. Take the ship and then come back for me in a few days."

Anakin frowned. "The healer said it would take months."

"Anakin," Obi-wan started.

"No, Master," the younger man said shortly. "You're going to stay here and heal, and that's that."

"One month," Obi-wan said.

"Three," Anakin replied.

Obi-wan frowned. "One and a half."

"Two, final offer."

The former Jedi raised an eyebrow. "Or what?"

"Or I bring the Jedi here directly and you go back to the Temple where I know they can keep you down."

Obi-wan didn't have to fake looking scandalized. "You wouldn't."

Anakin smirked. "Oh really?"

Finally Obi-wan let out another sigh. "Fine, I agree."

The smirk turned into a full-blown smile. "Good. I'll go check over the ship and see if anything needs replacing or rewiring—"

"Anakin," Obi-wan cut in, "don't ruin it."

It was Anakin's turn to look scandalized. "Since when have I ever ruined a ship?"

Obi-wan rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Please, be careful."

Looking put out, Anakin shooed his Master's concern away with a wave of his hand. "Fine, fine. I'll be back later today with an update on the status of the ship."

Obi-wan nodded with a fond smile as his Padawan left with a final wave of his hand.

As soon as the door closed, the smile vanished and the former Jedi found himself staring at the door with a blank expression. Who would have known how hard it would be to act like his former self—like the man he had been just weeks ago.

He came to the conclusion that Dooku deserved a medal for his own acting abilities. He'd always seemed so collected and was only different from his reputation as a Jedi Master when one looked at the consequences of his actions or pushed the man.

That brought Obi-wan's train of thought back to the task at hand. He had a lot of planning to do before Anakin returned that evening and it would all have to be executed in a month or less…well, he definitely had his work cut out for him.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he only vaguely acknowledged the fact that he had blatantly manipulated his Padawan into doing his bidding. After all, the guilt was a constant now and adding more to the already vast ocean of shame hardly required his attention. Besides, he realized grimly, ignoring it was somehow easier.

*RIDN – A term I made up. If people here in the US have Social Security numbers, then I would be very surprised if people in the Republic didn't have something similar. RIDN basically stands for 'Republic Identification Number'.

**This is actually true today. Older people don't realize that their Medicare plans don't cover long-term care and younger people don't realize that few company health plans cover it as well so that's where I got this from. I've recently gotten out of the insurance business and I couldn't help but realize just what a NIGHTMARE dealing with insurance from another _PLANET_ (a planet that isn't technically in the Republic, none the less) must be! *shudder*

***Galactic standard weeks are 5 days long, with 4 working days and 1 weekend day. Months tend to have about 5 standard weeks in them. Therefore, two weeks = 10 days, half a week = 2-3 days.


	4. Chapter 4

_The most difficult thing for me was learning to think through the emotions. All of my life, I had learned to accept my emotions and then to give them up before I made a decision. When that no longer became an option, I very suddenly found myself having to learn from scratch to think _despite_ my emotions. It may have been the one area of my personality that actually improved after I fell. _

The Clone War, as all wars throughout history, had created far more than its fair share of victims. Unlike other wars in recent times, the Jedi did not escape this. If anything, it was just the opposite. The centuries old Jedi Order, which had helped to bring about the peace that was now being systematically destroyed, would of course be at the forefront of every battle, fighting for harmony again…at least, that's what the news channels stated. After all, one of the many reasons why the Jedi were allowed the privileges they were was because of their neutral defense of peace. As protectors of the galaxy, they were expected to fight for that peace as well. Most Jedi agreed to this propaganda to some extent, but they also didn't see how keeping peace meant fighting and destroying. For the Jedi Order had indoctrinated a certain level of pacifism into its Jedi for longer than any current member had lived, and that was a hard thing to let go of.

Truthfully, destroying droids wasn't so bad. Slicing into Force-dead machinery and electronics would never be anything that really hung on any Jedi's conscious or made them question who their enemy was off the battlefield. The real problem was that Jedi were also losing comrades and civilians and the clones that supported them (who were alive in and of themselves—and thus to be cherished and protected).

Thus, almost from the beginning, the war had felt extremely one-sided to the Republic and many in the Order itself. The enemy leaders never had to relent or worry about the cost of lives as more than production numbers, whereas the Jedi had to deal with a near crippling level of loss not felt in generations. This caused them to find themselves, even if only in the deepest part of their hearts, truly caring for the Jedi lost to battle and the people underneath them coupled with a growing reluctance to lose anyone else.

It seemed there wasn't a week that went by without at least five new casualties among the Jedi Knights or Padawans. The Order may not have been encouraged to form attachments, but none could deny that that the holes those Jedi left at home were aching, gaping sores that many found difficult to deal with. Who would be the next person on the list of dead or missing? Or worse, as some of them whispered. A few Jedi that came home, driven to pain or cowardice by a loss that they had been unable to bear, had been forever changed—and not in any way positive. Far too many veterens disappeared into meditation chambers—refusing to surface—or had to be placed under heavy sedation with the Healers for their own good. Such situations were becoming far too common, and each Jedi's loss would only force another into the field, possibly never to be seen again.

And yet, not fighting seemed just as wrong to their mindset, because the Jedi were _meant_ to protect—to help and support and keep other beings alive. If they pulled out of the war, no matter how much healing they needed, what then? Who would they be protecting? What right would they have to face the spirits of the people cut down by the droids in the afterlife because they weren't there as they had promised to be?

The only answer seemed to be nothing other than 'end the war'. So that was what they strove for. They would carry on, despite the stabs of pain and sadness that the entire temple seemed to feel every time one of their own fell. They would mourn for their losses, release their emotions to the Force as best they could and move on to the next battle.

And yet, some wounds seemed as if they would never truly heal. One such sore inflicted was when General Obi-wan Kenobi—the man who seemed to be able to talk or maneuver his way out of anything and the renowned Sith Killer—had gone missing, presumed dead. It had become even worse when his Padawan, the hope of the Order's future, the fabled 'Chosen One' who could practically bulldoze his way through any situation his Master couldn't talk them out of, also vanished in a similar manner. Their losses had been enormous blows both to the war effort and to almost every Knight, Padawan and Master personally. The news had been demoralizing to the Jedi that saw the two leaders as pillars of strength, figures standing tall that broke the war around them rather than letting the war break them. Losing them had felt—yes felt, even if none would admit it aloud—like losing what little faith they had that the Order would be able to come through this war still mostly intact.

Which was why when a message with Padawan Skywalker's personal code came to the Temple, most of the Jedi who heard could only stare in disbelief at the holo-projector displaying the visage of the supposedly lost boy. His return from the dead brought a desperate relief from the nigh overwhelming losses that they had suffered under, and rekindled a hope that had vanished from the steadily declining moral of the Jedi. Then the news he brought back of Knight Kenobi's survival spread, causing even more surprise and all masters turned blind eyes to the quiet displays of joy, hope and renewed vigor that sprung up among the younger ranks.

His announcement also cemented his position as the 'Chosen One' in the minds of several of the more skeptical residents of the Temple, for Anakin had had faith in one of their brightest brothers when all others had lost it. He had held hope and trust in his heart and his steady dedication had been rewarded. The fact that Obi-wan was in seclusion and recovering was of little consequence. The fact that Padawan Skywalker refused to reveal his Master's location, while worrying to the truly jaded that felt he might have lost his mind rather than found his Master, was something others found as an example of dedication, understanding and acceptance. After all, the older man needed time to heal and Anakin seemed determined to see that he received it.

The story the boy related regarding the pair's whereabouts was nothing short of amazing, and half of the Jedi felt that what he remembered had to be influenced by either drugs or pain (or both). Either that, or he was purposefully embellishing. Still, despite the fact that only two months earlier no one had believed Obi-wan Kenobi lived—no matter what Anakin had said at the time—few disbelieved him now. His desperate determination from before had melted into a calm certainty that few could deny, and as such, they looked forward to celebrating a favorite general's return home, to help assuage that much more of the loss.

People only started to become wary when, about a month after Padawan Skywalker's return, the boy revealed that he couldn't reach his Master. After a week or so of this, Anakin informed the Council that he would return to the planet his Master was supposed to be recovering on. The wariness turned to anxiousness within the Order when Anakin returned with the information that the Knight had, once again, vanished, practically cleaning out the funds in the account he had been using up until that point. What was their General doing? Did he find a new house of healing? Or did he abandon them? Would he leave them to suffer losses that he could have prevented because of their lack of faith in him?

Only those with the highest clearance became seriously concerned for the man as Padawan Skywalker had not only returned with news, he had also brought home a note left for him in place of the funds in the depleted account.

_Dear Padawan, _

_There is so much to say that I cannot really begin to put it all into words. As such, I will only say this and hope that you come to understand one day._

_Anakin…I'm sorry._

_-Obi-wan_

Unlike the Council, Padawan Skywalker refused to guess at the reason for the words, stating that he would ask his Master when he came home. Then, as if deliberately to counter the maturity that he had recently displayed, the boy then showed his age and lack of experience by throwing almost every extra moment into locating his master again instead of focusing more on the war. Really, it only confirmed to the Council that he was not ready to move up to the station of a Knight, and though his esteem in their eyes had grown, no one there argued otherwise, and thus he remained a Padawan.

xXx

Coming up with basic plans for his general goals weren't that difficult, especially for someone of Obi-wan's mental caliber. Finding the right people to manipulate into helping him with his plan and contacting them was also surprisingly easy but extremely time-consuming. Designing contingencies for his plan took more thought and time due to his refusal to leave more to chance than he had to. Still, he had always known that the true difficulty would lay in the execution.

He could plan for centuries and never come up with everything that _could _happen, and the thought of the unknown, something he couldn't design an option for, was something he knew he couldn't truly plan for. Plans rarely survived first contact, after all, whether the plan was a war strategy or a carefully laid, step-by-step progression towards a goal. Before, that would have bothered him. Now, it angered him…and he hated that.

So he hashed and rehashed every single plot he designed, no matter how frustrated it made him or how he just wanted to throw everything to the wind and pull an Anakin—charge in with his lightsaber blazing and simply make everyone see sense. Eventually, he reached a point where he was satisfied enough with what he had to stop losing sleep. Ironically enough, that was when he really began to make progress in his physical therapy.

At the center of all his plans stood Count Dooku. Really, who else could possibly have the answers Obi-wan needed: why the Sith had _really_ started this war, what their end goal was (besides destruction of the Republic and the Order), how they planned on accomplishing this, etc. A lot of those questions weren't that difficult to really come up with an answer to, especially now. Still, Obi-wan had been able to sense that something deeper and darker was going on since before Geonosis. Many Jedi had felt the same. Now that he was more or less a Dark Jedi, that feeling had only increased, which didn't exactly lay Obi-wan's suspicions to rest.

His plots and plans for the whole month he had spent on Haadrian after Anakin left were hatched and refined in a small recovery facility that catered to richer clients. They had the individual attention that Obi-wan had needed and it made all the difference. His rehabilitation had progressed in leaps and bounds, and they had been far more lenient on who Obi-wan could and couldn't contact than the hospital would have been, which made his ability to scheme far easier.

That month had also been instrumental in Obi-wan coming to a rather tenuous truce with himself. The heart of the matter lay in the fact that he still wanted to be a Jedi. If he could find the will to turn from the Dark Side and all of its enticing power and wild energy, he would jump at the chance in a heartbeat. The problem was that he still could not seem to do so…and he couldn't help but wonder if that meant some subconscious part of him truly wanting the power the Dark Side gave him. The thought bothered him, and so he avoided touching the Force as he could almost feel the new energy twisting and corrupting him. Already he wasn't even sure if he really was still Obi-wan Kenobi at all, which gave him a new perspective on why Sith chose to take new names.

Once he had his course of action more or less solidified, he knew he would have to broach the subject of what Dooku's responses to his actions would be. It hadn't been something he'd been looking forward to figuring out as the fact of the matter was Obi-wan was positive he could not hide his new status from the man, and really, he did not want to put up with the smug superiority that the older ex-Jedi would undoubtedly exude. However, that line of thinking led him back to their meeting on Geonosis, when Dooku had asked Obi-wan to join him. It had been far more subtle than that, but once all of the pleasantries and supposedly casual observations were stripped away, that had essentially been what he'd asked. Obi-wan had little doubt that the other man would ask him again if they met face-to-face. If he went into the situation without having decided before hand what his response would be, he knew he could easily be swept up in Dooku's offers. The man had charisma, control, class…and all of them would be far more appealing to Obi-wan now. Especially considering that the man essentially had the power to stop the war if he so chose _plus_ his knowledge and experience using both sides of the Force.

Obi-wan had never sought power, but he had always held a weakness for knowledge—especially when it could possibly help him to feel less adrift than he currently did. Still, he was stubborn too, and Obi-wan refused to simply 'go along' with anything. He wouldn't be able to protect Anakin like that, so he seriously asked himself if he could ever see himself joining the Sith—a question he was not happy to ask, but one he knew he honestly had to consider.

The answer had been a surprisingly firm 'no'. The cold, hard truth really came down to the fact that the Sith had put Anakin's life in danger, and Obi-wan couldn't forgive them for that. They had also—either directly or indirectly—threatened the lives of every other person who meant anything to Obi-wan and he couldn't see that stopping any time soon. From what he could recall from his lessons as a youngling, to join the Sith Order, one had to murder someone close to them in cold blood, and that was simply something Obi-wan was unwilling to do. He didn't feel the same towards anyone who had meant something to him now, but he did still harbor emotions towards them and the memory of what he had once felt for them was something that seemed to be able to keep him on some semblance of a moral path. He had no delusions that he could always rely on that—eventually, the darkness would corrupt that too—but for now, he did have it and he would cling to it.

So he had come to the conclusion that, dark or not, a Jedi he would remain after all. It was funny, but after he'd taken the leap into the darkness he'd expected to be…well, different. It surprised him that he still seemed to be only slowly descending into the miasma—inevitably and constantly as he could not turn and go back, no matter how he tried, but somehow he felt that when most dark-siders fell, they would do so very quickly.

He figured that this difference in him lay in his path to the Dark Side—the ever encompassing, crushing guilt that he had more or less learned to accept as a constant in his life now. It was funny in a rather grim sort of way that that which had lead him to the darkness now also kept him somehow connected to the light. He felt guilty for turning his back on everything he had ever known, which connected him to the darkness but also encouraged him to look back. He felt guilty for manipulating and practically abandoning his Padawan, which made him want to keep tabs on him and ensure the boy's future instead of destroying or eradicating it. He felt guilty for having been so weak as to have been captured by a Sith Acolyte, which had given him the power to kill her but had also rid her evil from the Galaxy and thus gave him a small sense of accomplishment and peace that lay buried beneath the lust for power and the steadily growing anger that he had never before equated with himself.

The double-edged result of his actions tended to give him a headache whenever he thought about it, so he tried to avoid doing so. Still, Obi-wan had never considered himself a coward, and so he refused to back away from the realizations permanently, and thus he had eventually forced himself to examine the situation from that view point.

One thing the Dark Side seemed to encourage that the normal Force didn't was the sheer possibility and potential that lay at the very core of the nigh-untamable (and yet surprisingly pliable at the same time) energy. The darkness did not lend itself to healing or peace, but the very ideas of what Obi-wan could do with it if he so chose was something that both intrigued him and made him extremely wary. He had no doubt that more than one person had lost themselves to that very idea. Just because he _could_ do something didn't mean he _should_, although that thought seemed so…obsolete now. The techniques he could discover could change the universe! So why should it matter who got in his way and who he had to destroy or torture to discover them?

And then he would remember Anakin and the sheer worry on the boy's face, or he would think back to those two women who meant so much to him even now, or Mace Windu who he'd thought of as a mentor and friend, or Master Yoda who had always been the most powerful being that Obi-wan had ever known, and he'd done so with the warmth and light, not the darkness. It always managed to put everything into perspective. He concluded that he could experiment as long as those he had cared for would not be hurt—which meant he could learn control and techniques only through what he already knew and what he could conceivably do by/to himself, because he had little doubt that they would all find out what he had done eventually and he wanted to minimize the pain and betrayal they would undoubtedly feel. If he'd hurt anyone else at that point, they would never forgive him, and he couldn't live with that.

He had already adapted most what he knew of his lighter techniques to the darkness and had been practicing control—which was another beast in and of itself. Control of the light had meant a mastery of oneself. Obi-wan had only recently realized with an insight that he doubted he could have achieved any other way just how internalized the normal Force was. The Dark Side, however, was external. It required a complete knowledge of one's will and superiority over it to control. Of the Force, one asked. Of the Dark Side, one demanded. The light lent itself to commonalities and working together. The dark lent itself to hierarchies and levels, which was why, Obi-wan realized after several weeks of contemplation, the Sith strove to always be the best. When one controlled others, in their mind, it meant that no one had control over them. When no one had control over them, supposedly freedom had been obtained.

It was a ridiculous notion to the Former Jedi because by gaining that supposed freedom from others, they had enslaved themselves to the Dark Side; become a tool only useful to the darkness and at that point, they had no real will of their own. If he ever fell that far, he hoped that someone would have the will and ability to end his existence. Sadly, he feared it was only a matter of time.

He knew he could not put off enacting his plans for long. Not only did he not trust himself in the long run, but he also wanted to end the war as quickly as possible, which was why he found himself approaching the Seperatist planet of Serenno not two months after he and Anakin had escaped from Ventress, and a month and a half after he had woken in the facility at Haadrian. The long-term care facility had not been pleased when he had informed them that he would be checking out early. They had insisted that he needed rehabilitation for at least another month, even with the rapid healing rate he'd been advancing at (which had actually surprised him, but wasn't something he would question at the moment). At that point, he had simply told them that he would continue with his exercises, thanked them for their services, paid them a rather hefty tip and left. They really couldn't stop him, and he wouldn't have tolerated them trying.

By the time he'd found and bought a small ship that would serve his purposes, his plan had almost been complete and he'd only needed to oversee a few matters personally. Now everything he needed for implementation had been put in place and he himself would be the catalyst.

He kept a steady course as he waited for the planet security to contact him. He got surprisingly close to the planet before they did.

"Unidentified shuttle, this is Serreno Planet Security. Transmit your identification documents now or you will be shot. Over."

"Acknowledged, Planet Security," he replied calmly and sent the documents for the craft over. He wasn't really trying to hide anything and knew they would know the name and other personal identifications would be false.

Right on time, they responded. "The name of the owner of the shuttle has been proven to be false. You must provide your personal documentation immediately! This is your last warning!" Obi-wan couldn't tell if the voice was male or female or simply a droid. It sounded metallic and harsh over the static of the com. Somehow, that annoyed him.

"Planet Security, I read you. Those documents will be sent through momentarily. Please keep in mind that I request an audience with Count Dooku."

"Lord Dooku is not on planet at the moment," came the almost immediate reply. Obi-wan rolled his eyes. He knew that was a lie.

"I can wait," he responded. "Documentation transmitting."

He transferred his real identification documents as his entire plan revolved around blatantly pronouncing his presence to Dooku. He had debated long and hard between going in quietly and going in Anakin-style. Eventually he'd chosen the latter simply because it would be unexpected, and anything he could do to keep Dooku off balance would benefit him.

"Shuttle Mikoromin, do not deviate from your current course or you will be shot. All passengers will be taken into custody upon arrival. Over."

"Understood," Obi-wan replied. "You will not find any resistance. Over."

For a moment he amused himself with imagining the looks on the faces of the beings manning the station before he stood and made his final preparations. Yes, he had everything in place for a quick escape if necessary and he checked over his plans for the umpteenth time that hour before completely erasing them from the data pad he'd poured over for the last several days, removing the hard drive and crushing it in his hand to completely eradicate any trace.

Then he slowly and calmly piloted the shuttle down between the escort ships that had surrounded him long before they'd begun to enter into the atmosphere. Upon landing, he grabbed his bag, stepped to the door and opened it calmly. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, keeping his hands in sight. He wasn't disappointed. About three dozen droids met his gaze and he could see several security squads behind them, all with their blasters pointed towards him.

"Well," he commented, "this is quite the welcome." It was nice to see that he hadn't lost all of his humor. Actually he was grateful that it had begun to make a sort of comeback, even if his tastes had become darker and more morbid.

"General Obi-wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight and enemy to the Confederacy of Independent Systems, you are under arrest," one of the men with many decorations on his chest said calmly as he stepped through the robots towards the shuttle's ramp.

"I expected as much, commander," Obi-wan said with a forced smile. "After all, I did come here to turn myself in."

He'd been expecting that declaration to be met with shock and skepticism. Yet again, he wasn't disappointed.

xXx

He hadn't been in the holding cell for more than twenty minutes before the man he'd come to meet arrived. Obi-wan had been trying (yet again) to meditate with little success. The Dark Side didn't exactly promote calm meditation. Obi-wan didn't really know what else to do, though, so he simply sat there and tried to reach out to the light only to grab hold the darkness yet again. Sometimes he didn't know why he still tried, really.

"Well, well, well," a smooth voice came to him. He didn't open his eyes. "If it isn't Master Kenobi."

"Count Dooku," Obi-wan said in a falsely pleasant voice. He had worked very hard in the recent weeks to build a façade that seemed similar to his old self. "I see your reception hasn't changed much." He finally opened his eyes and indicated the cell around him.

"But you have," Dooku said, brushing his beard thoughtfully.

Obi-wan's wry expression disappeared and he allowed his eyes to fall a little. "So I have."

"I assume that is why you came to me. If you had truly been taken by force, I doubt I would have found this cell occupied."

At that, Obi-wan frowned and then smiled. "It is not the entire reason."

"Oh?"

"I came to negotiate," he said, closing his eyes again.

"You did?" Dooku sounded entirely too pleased. "Then perhaps you should abandon that pathetic attempt at meditation and follow me back to my residence where I can at least show you true manners."

Obi-wan allowed himself to slump a little before rising smoothly to his feet. "Very well," he said, striding over to the red-tinged ray shield.

"But sir," one of the silent guards standing nearby spoke.

Dooku rounded on him. "Do not speak if you wish to continue to live," he warned. The man must have been particularly intelligent because he nodded and backed away. Dooku didn't bother to walk over to the controls, instead choosing to manipulate them with the Force. It was strictly for show, Obi-wan realized. He'd found that using the Dark Side in subtle ways was rather difficult. The fact that Dooku could do so was a testament to his training and skill. Despite himself, Obi-wan was impressed.

"This way, Master Kenobi," Dooku said and began to walk away.

"Don't call me that," Obi-wan said, his voice quiet but firm. Dooku peered over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question. "I'm not even a knight anymore, and I am no one's master." Okay, perhaps that had sounded a bit too bitter.

"As you wish. What would you like for me to call you, then?"

"Just Obi-wan is fine," he responded, making sure to put a depressed note into his voice. It wasn't difficult.

The Count turned forward again, but Obi-wan still caught the small but triumphant smile on the man's face. "Very well, Obi-wan."

Okay, perhaps he should have come up with something else, because hearing Dooku say his name like that grated on his nerves, which did little for his already thinning patience.

"Allow me to show you around my home planet, Obi-wan," Count Dooku said as he pushed open the double doors to the dull, gray building that had held Obi-wan's containment cell. The planet outside could not have been more different from the facility. The system's star shone down brightly, warming the stone and durocrete beneath them. A pleasant breeze wafted through the buildings, bringing a fresh wave of crisp air to the city. In the distance, Obi-wan could see several mountains and the breeze held just the hint of the smell of foliage in it, suggesting that the forests the planet was known for weren't too far away.

Dooku raised his hand and called over what must be his personal speeder. It had a removable cover on it and looked to be at least three or four times as long as the normal speeder on the market these days. Yes, the Sith was definitely showing off.

The Count gestured for Obi-wan to enter first, which he did, finding himself in a large, luxurious seating area. He made sure to keep any reaction strictly under his control and chose a seat that would allow for him to see all exits and windows in the vehicle. A few moments later, Dooku climbed into the area as well and seated himself across from Obi-wan, pulling a bottle of what looked like some sort of high-class alcoholic beverage over with the Force. Obi-wan had a hard time holding back a cringe at his blatant use of the Dark Side. Here was someone who had embraced the darkness fully and was more than comfortable with it. Just being in his presence and realizing that suddenly made Obi-wan feel both self-conscious and awkward.

"Now, I know you probably already know, but how about a brief history of my planet?"

"If you wish," Obi-wan said with a graceful nod of his head. Truthfully, he would prefer silence, but doubted the other man would acquiesce.

"Would you like something to drink? This is Caamian wine. Very rare these days." And undoubtedly very pricy. It irked Obi-wan that the man seemed to take every opportunity to flaunt his status and wealth, but then Obi-wan had never expected any different. With an inward sigh, the younger man began to realize just how long this trip would be and mentally prepared himself for it.

"Thank you, no. I'm afraid that I am still recovering from a medical condition and the alcohol would only aggravate it."

"I see," the older man said with a sagely nod of his head. At that point he pulled out a pitcher of filtered water so clear Obi-wan almost couldn't see it and poured it into a glass before handing it over. Obi-wan took it but did not drink. Dooku didn't seem to mind.

"So let us start with this city. It isn't the capitol city, but it takes most of the off-world traffic as it allows the skies over the capitol to remain far clearer…"

A very long ride indeed.

xXx

Note: I've decided that I want some sort of insight at the beginning of every chapter, something from Obi-wan's pov. As such, I'm going to be putting those at the beggining of every chapter, so you may want to go back and read them. They're just a few paragraphs long each. .

Also, thanks to Kuroi Atropos and Daricio for all their help on this chapter! Couldn't have done it without them! :D


	5. Chapter 5

Note: This is not beta'd.

_The true danger of the Dark Side does not lie in the fact that it changes one's actions, but that it changes the user's desires. That is how it so thoroughly corrupts. It doesn't just change one's thought process, but the very reasons behind the goals one works towards. Once you give in, the world around you becomes twisted and it gets harder and harder to see any good in what anyone does. After all, how can one continue to work towards good when they have nothing but hate and resentment and guilt in their heart? And hate is like a virus, if it goes uncontrolled. At first, you just hate that which has caused you pain or will cause you pain or threatens to cause you pain. After a while, though, you start to hate everything…_

"I must admit, Obi-wan, that I rather like your change in appearance. Clean-shaven is quite a good look for you."

Obi-wan frowned as his host lead him up to the doors of the entirely-too-large estate that would undoubtedly be one of Dooku's many holdings here on Serrano.

"Ah, that. I would have liked to regrow the beard, but the scars caused it to grow unevenly." It had actually looked rather dreadful, and Obi-wan sincerely hoped it would not be something lasting as even with the scar tissue on his left jawline he looked young and innocent. He'd never much cared for what Anakin called his 'baby face'. He did not like looking younger than his years suggested. Too many people looked down on him when he didn't have a beard—took him and his experience for granted and passed it off as nothing serious.

"Ah yes, the scars. If I may inquire, where did they come from?"

No, he could not inquire. Obi-wan wanted to simply kill him right then and there just for asking. But he knew that the subject had to be approached at some point, so he simply stomped down on his feelings and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I was caught and tortured," he said. "Truthfully, I had figured you were behind it." Okay, there was perhaps too much accusation behind that.

"I assure you that I had no knowledge of your continued existence," Dooku replied almost flippantly, but with an underlying tone of sincerity.

"I see," Obi-wan said, looking away as if in thought. "And I assume you want me to take your word on that?"

Dooku paused before the rather enormous doors of his estate and looked at Obi-wan with a dry expression.

"I don't see how your belief in my word matters. It won't change the fact that you need me."

Obi-wan's expression darkened. "Indeed," he replied.

Dooku opened the double doors and stepped over the threshold into a lavish entry way. Everything from the tiles to the tables to the well-cared-for plants in the corners and along the walls screamed expense. The money for energy outputs to keep some of those decorations in a sort of orbit around the chandelier alone would probably feed a small planet.

"This way, Obi-wan."

The former Jedi followed the Sith without comment, but he couldn't stop his eyes from narrowing ever so slightly. Yes, he definitely should have come up with something else for Dooku to call him.

The Count led him through far too many turns and hallways and rooms before they stopped at a simple but extremely rich sitting room where some tea had been placed on a table. Dooku waited for his guest to sit down before he did so himself. Obi-wan chose a soft-looking, blue chair that conformed to the contour of his body the moment he touched it. His host sat across from him, on a cream colored duvet with wood lining, and reached forward to serve the tea.

"Sugar?"

"No, thank you," Obi-wan said.

"Cream? It comes from Alderaan. They are known for their multitude of flavors."

The younger man's lips thinned. "Very well."

Dooku raised an eyebrow, holding one of the small containers of cream above a cup of still steaming tea.

"I assume you said that because you don't plan on drinking it anyway."

Obi-wan didn't answer. Dooku sighed and set both dishes back on the tray. "If you wish to learn anything from me, you will have to lower your guard to some extent eventually."

"You mistake my intensions," Obi-wan said, voice as neutral as ever. "I did not come here to train."

A frown and curious twitch from Dooku. "Then why did you come here?"

"As I said before, I came to negotiate."

Dooku's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he gestured for Obi-wan to continue.

"I must say that my new…position has shed some light on some of the questions the Jedi have been asking recently." He tried to ignore how much it hurt to talk of the Jedi Order as something he no longer belonged to. "They had so little idea when it came to the Sith because there were so many options: you started the war because you needed a distraction, or perhaps it is a power grab gone wrong, or a power grab going right; or it was started because you simply like to sew chaos wherever you go…that is, after all, the nature of the Dark Side."

Dooku smiled at the simple, ironic comment. Obi-wan simply shook his head, unable to keep the dryness out of his tone.

After a moment and another sip of Dooku's tea, he put his cup back on the saucer in front of him. "And if you had to venture a guess at my motivations?"

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the bluntness of the question.

"Before, I would have leaned towards the latter."

Dooku let out the softest of snorts, but that didn't decrease the derision in it. Then he looked intently at Obi-wan.

"And now?

Obi-wan didn't answer for a few moments, but finally figured that he really didn't have anything to hide at this point—at least, not concerning this aspect of the topic.

"I would have to say it is a power grab, most likely one going right."

The smile on the older man's lips told Obi-wan he'd guessed correctly.

"Interesting," Dooku responded before taking another sip.

"I also believe that your master is in the upper government of the Republic."

To his credit, the only thing that gave Dooku away as surprised were his eyebrows rising. "Oh? And why do you say that?"

Obi-wan scoffed. "Please. I've been on the front lines of the war. I've seen first hand what kinds of resources you have. They are indeed substantial, and you can keep this war going for quite a while, but eventually you will run out of materials to make droids with, or you will be forced to use less desirable alloys. Admittedly the same can be said about the clones, but it is clear to me that you did not start this battle with the intent to hold out until you win, just as the Republic cannot intend for the clone armies to last for more than a couple of years—a decade at the most.

"So why would you do that? If your master were a part of the separatists, then it would stand to reason that you would be taking more preparations for the 'long run' as it were. I don't currently see either the Separatists or the Republic being able to last that long. So the war in and of itself is a distraction so fewer people examine the general power accumulation too closely or they ignore it."

Dooku looked entirely too smug in Obi-wan's opinion, but he did seem to look more and more impressed as the younger man continued as well. When he finally stopped, Dooku nodded as if to acknowledge everything Obi-wan had just said, but his words stated otherwise.

"That is, of course, all your own speculation and you have no real proof."

Obi-wan raised one eyebrow. "You yourself told me that hundreds of Senators are under the influence of the Dark Lord of the Sith."

"Which is hardly proof." So he wanted to play it like that. Obi-wan couldn't help the wry expression on his face.

"Indeed," he said. He didn't voice that he knew Dooku was planning on somehow subverting his master and taking power by whatever means his master had originally planned on. Truthfully, now that he really thought about it, Obi-wan guessed it had something to do with the clones. But he'd worked with the clones himself. Yes, they'd had a great deal of conditioning—some may even say that it had gone to the point of indoctrination—but the Jedi had examined every aspect of what the clones were being taught, and nothing suggested that kind of mental programming. If Dooku—or anyone, really—planned on taking over the Republic they would somehow have to eliminate the threat of the Jedi and all of the honor guards of every planet. The banking clans would also have to come under the Sith's power, which Obi-wan really couldn't see happening. They were separate from both the Republic and the Separatists.

He was missing something.

"You sound so sure. What makes you think that this supposed 'power grab' of yours is the correct conclusion?"

It was a token question and they both knew it. Still, Obi-wan couldn't help but take it seriously. He looked down at his hand, the one he'd extended when he'd killed Ventress.

"Because only someone who cared for power above all else would choose to embrace this."

A flare in the Force had him turning to Dooku warily. The Count still sat there as calmly as ever, not seeming to have changed a muscle, but he practically radiated disappointment.

"Said like a true Jedi," the Sith said, still in utter control of his voice. Obi-wan couldn't help but marvel at the man's discipline. From the viewpoint of a Jedi, Dooku's current control wouldn't have seemed much different than his reputation suggested. As a darksider, witnessing personally how difficult it really was to control anything, it boggled Obi-wan's mind.

Before, Obi-wan would have said something along the lines of 'thank you', despite the obvious lack of a compliment in the other man's voice, knowing very well that it would provoke the Count. Now, he wasn't sure of his own control to a point where he felt he could even begin to compete with the man if he decided to begin a verbal battle, let alone a physical one.

And the worst part of it all, Obi-wan was sure that Dooku was the apprentice. Just what kind of control did his Sith Master have? For the first time, Obi-wan began to realize what he was up against and decided that his plans would have to be seriously tweaked.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Obi-wan kept quiet.

Dooku took the hint and continued. "You still think too much like a Jedi, and you will never become a master of the Dark Side like that. Your pathetic attempt at meditation only proves that. You think that the Dark Side is the Force except colder, more powerful, perhaps wilder. You couldn't be more wrong. If you are to learn to control the darkness, you must forget everything you have learned because it will not help you."

And the worst part about it was that Obi-wan could see how the Sith was telling the truth. He could still touch the Force, direct it, use it—for the most part—but everything else about it felt almost foreign. Of course it would make sense that Jedi techniques would only be able to take him so far…

But he also did not want to use Sith techniques. That would take him down a path that he did not want to go—one far worse than the path he had already begun down. So he again, kept his mouth shut.

Suddenly, Dooku's demeanor changed from tense and angry to relaxed and understanding. Instead of putting Obi-wan at ease, it made him want to bolt for the door. "But then again, it is understandable. I was little different when in your shoes. It did not occur to me that meditation could even be conducted in another way."

He'd dangled that bait on purpose. He wanted Obi-wan to ask how, and the younger man refused to give in. Dooku must have sensed this because he simply smiled and took another sip of that tea of his. "I will give you a hint—it deals with a focal point."

"I do not want to know," Obi-wan muttered, angry that he sounded like a petulant child.

Dooku scoffed. "You must also cease fearing the Dark Side. If you do not consider yourself its master, it will never allow you to control it fully."

And, in a very Anakin-like moment of weakness, he found he couldn't keep his mouth shut. "I thought fear would be a tool you use every day."

To his surprise, Dooku relaxed ever so slightly. "Much better. Fear, even your own fear, can be a powerful tool indeed, but only if it does not have power over you. That is what you must learn—power over your emotions."

And truly, that confused Obi-wan. "The Jedi teach the same thing."

Dooku conceded the point with a slight shrug. "They teach Jedi to control and then release them, not use them, but our emotions bring us power. If you can use them to draw you closer to the Force—to boost your power—then they are just that: a tool."

Something about that seemed inherently wrong, but Obi-wan couldn't really place what. The darkness was beginning to cloud his thoughts again. Seriously, how did the Sith live like this?! How did they learn to think without the muddiness that seemed to come instinctively with prolonged connection to the dark?

Pushing the thoughts aside, he took a soft but deep breath. It helped to calm him somewhat.

"A pity," Dooku said. "But you will learn, with time."

And that angered Obi-wan too because he knew that Dooku meant to teach him. He wanted to use Obi-wan as an apprentice to help defeat the Sith Master. The idea had merit, but to do so, Obi-wan would have to learn the ways of the Sith, and he simply could not allow himself to do so right now. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist the path entirely. Even if he began with the intention to simply go along until Dooku initiated his coup, he knew his limits and he knew that the temptations to follow and become one of the hated beings himself would be more than he could resist right now. Since he had already decided not to walk that path, he would have to avoid the temptation to begin with.

"Perhaps," was all he could say before he fell silent again.

He stayed that way for only a moment, but he had come here for a reason, and he decided to dispense with the pleasantries.

"Count Dooku," he said formally. "I will say that I do not wish to become your student. While I will admit that your control and skill have impressed me, and I have no doubt you can best me in a physical and probably verbal battle at the moment, I will admit that I simply do not wish to join you or your cause."

"Really?" the Sith asked, his face neutral but Obi-wan thought he could sense the confusion beneath the exterior.

"To take power, your Master needs to ensure that the Jedi are no obstacle. That means he plans on somehow destroying either the Order itself, its reputation or both. I want him to sign a contract stating that if he succeeds he will send the younglings under the age of 8 back to their parents and that he won't touch Anakin. If he signs and holds to the contract, I will not get involved in the war. Both of you will be left alone to do as you will with that exception." He'd thought about it long and hard, but he'd come to realize that while he still cared for the Jedi and the Order, Anakin meant more to him at this point. He'd come to wonder when that had happened. When had Anakin become more dear than his oldest friends—the people he thought of as his family?

He'd thrown in the clause about the younglings because Anakin would never forgive him if he let innocents die like that. Actually, he fully expected that if Anakin ever found out about this that he wouldn't forgive Obi-wan…but he would have a chance at life, and that meant everything to the former Jedi.

From the look on Dooku's face, though, he wasn't impressed. That was fine, Obi-wan hadn't expected him to be.

"And what makes you think that my master will sign this little agreement of yours?" the Count asked.

Obi-wan shrugged. "If he does, then I won't hunt him down and destroy him."

For a moment Dooku simply stared at Obi-wan. Then he actually laughed out loud. It wasn't deep or hearty, but it was something the younger man didn't think he'd ever see.

"You actually believe you can, too," Dooku said, sounding highly amused. "You do not even know his identity. He has been hiding in front of the Jedi for years. What makes you think you have any chance against him as you are now?"

Obi-wan shrugged again. "I don't believe I have any chance against him as of right now. That is where you come in."

"Oh?" Dooku set his saucer and cup down, his expression still retaining amusement, much to Obi-wan's annoyance.

"You are the leader of the Separatists, therefore you have the power to at least make sure that Anakin survives."

The other man tipped his head to the side, causing the collar of the rather ridiculous half-cape he wore to crinkle loudly. "Surely you must realize that I cannot agree to that. Even my master believes he is the Chosen One. We cannot let him live."

Obi-wan sighed inwardly. He'd been afraid of that. Still, he was a negotiator first and foremost and could not see that changing in the near future.

"Why do you care for him so?" Dooku asked, frown of disapproval back on his face. "As you are now he is merely a weakness—a liability at best."

Perhaps so, but if Anakin was his weakness, then he would simply have to learn to work around it. If Anakin died, then everything Obi-wan had gone through to keep him safe would be in vain. He would have turned for nothing and he couldn't accept that. Besides, Anakin was the closest thing he had to family and the mere idea of hurting the boy turned his stomach even now.

Well, he had his answer from Dooku. Now all he had to do was wait for his plans to take affect. He'd been expecting this answer after all. From here on out, all he had to do was buy more time.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to capture or turn him if he's so powerful and such a threat," Obi-wan said dryly, glaring in Dooku's direction. Yes, if he looked hard enough he could see the sweat beginning to appear on the man's upper lip. He otherwise seemed unruffled.

Then, to his surprised, Dooku scoffed. "I believe my master has already tried. Several times, in fact."

Obi-wan felt his blood freeze in his veins.

"What?" he asked, unable to keep his body from stiffening.

"Please, I told you he has been hiding under the nose of the Jedi for years. Your Padawan knows him rather well. Truthfully, that is another reason as to why I cannot agree to your request. Anakin Skywalker represents a threat to me personally." He paused and cleared his throat before continuing. "I have no doubt that my master will succeed in turning him eventually."

The world seemed to suddenly stand very still as Obi-wan wrapped his mind around that. The Sith wanted Anakin? Then he wanted to kick himself. _Of course_ he would want Anakin on his side. Anakin represented nothing but power and such potential that Obi-wan wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. It was so _obvious_…

"Oh Force," he muttered. And he had been the one to encourage Anakin to make friends outside of the Jedi Order. He had been the one to suggest that Anakin make and keep contacts in the Senate and other local organizations. He'd merely thought at the time that having contacts one could rely on would be immensely helpful for the boy. Now he realized just how mistaken he'd been.

Anakin knew the Sith—had been influenced by him—and it was all Obi-wan's fault. The realization caused weight of guilt on his heart to double. It was a wonder the thing stayed in his chest. It should be miles under the crust of the planet at this point.

Dooku clearing his throat again brought Obi-wan back to the present. "So, that was your reason for turning," he commented, not looking too pleased. Apparently he'd put two and two together and made a logical jump.

Obi-wan saw little reason in keeping the truth to himself. "Yes."

"How disappointing."

At that, Obi-wan managed a soft snort. "You would rather I do as you did—turn for my own selfish reasons?"

"My reasons are my own," the Count said, a hint of anger coloring his voice. "And they are no more selfish than yours."

Obi-wan simply raised an eyebrow, doing everything he could to focus on the man and not the expanding shame in his chest. He'd turned because his choice had either been that or watch Anakin die slowly and in agony. How was that selfish?

He knew the answer, though. He'd just been avoiding the implications. Dooku's question, however, brought his mind around to those thought's he'd been ignoring. It had been a selfish decision because he'd judged Anakin's life to be more important than everything he had ever held dear. Because he'd betrayed everyone back at the Temple; anyone he'd ever looked up to or anyone who had ever looked up to him…including Anakin.

And he knew it.

Apparently, so did Dooku.

Dooku clearing his throat again brought Obi-wan back to the present. He looked expectantly at his host, knowing very well why the man had made the noise. Right now, he should be feeling marginally uncomfortable.

He recovered quickly. "Forgive me. It is simply amusing to see that even the great Obi-wan Kenobi is so adept at lying to himself."

Obi-wan's hands clenched. It was so frustrating that a comment like that could get under his skin now…probably because he knew it was true. He could not think of such things right now because he was not in any way, shape or form ready for it. So he searched for another subject to force his mind to focus on. It wasn't easy and the frustration kept building. His host noticed.

"Why are you still fighting it?" Dooku asked in that annoyingly even tone of his. "Embrace it."

"Perhaps it is time to end this," Obi-wan responded and stood. Then he almost kicked himself. So much for never acting rashly again. Panicking wouldn't help him at this point, and he knew it. Still, he felt as if he were giving into Dooku's words just by listening to the man. Funny, he hadn't really felt that way before…

Dooku sighed. "It seems I have my work cut out for me."

"I told you," Obi-wan said, forcing himself to not speak through clenched teeth. He had just enough control to do so. "I am not becoming your apprentice."

"Why ever not?"

"Because I hate you," he found himself saying. "I despise you and everything the Sith stand for. I will not become one of you."

And that infernal smirk was back. "Well, it's a start. A good start, actually." Then his expression turned slightly admonishing (and still far too amused), "Do you honestly think anyone who joins the Sith doesn't hate them as well? Your hate merely feeds your power."

Obi-wan clenched his jaw before turning and walking towards the door. "We're through here."

"I don't think so," Dooku said as he stood. Obi-wan paused and looked back just in time to see the man stumble, and he had to hide a smirk. At least _something_ was going right here. But he still had to buy time. So he schooled his expression into something dry and unimpressed.

"Yes, I can see the affects of your training even now," he said, then turned away again only to have the door slam in his face. He paused right before hitting it and turned to glare at Dooku.

"We are not finished," the Sith said, anger beginning to creep into his expression.

Obi-wan narrowed his eyes. "I am not like that power you crave so much. I will not give in simply because you demand I do so."

"Then you are a fool," the older man shot back. "I offer you the chance to gain unlimited power and you reject it."

"My condition is Anakin's life," Obi-wan returned, "And you have rejected that."

And then Dooku paused, scrutinizing Obi-wan for a few seconds before speaking again. "That is your only condition?"

"And the children," Obi-wan added hastily, suddenly wary at the other man's tone.

"But you would remain if I agreed."

The younger man frowned. "You already said Anakin is a threat to you."

"Only as long as Sidious lives."

Obi-wan paused for a moment, contemplating that. "Explain," he said, not caring that a rather threatening tone had crept into his voice.

Dooku raised his hands in mock surrender. "I do not wish harm on the boy."

"Despite the fact that he is the chosen one?"

The Sith raised a finger. "I said that my master believes your…former apprentice is the Chosen One. I never said that I do."

Yes, that loop hole was far too obvious for Obi-wan to let him get away with. "And do you?"

Dooku seemed to think that over for a moment. "I'm not sure. I would be unsurprised either way as both outcomes are possible. However, my main concern is that Anakin poses a threat to me personally simply because my Master is attracted to power." Dooku's tone turned derisive and disapproving before snapping back to encouraging. "He wants your apprentice as his. I, on the other hand, have little interest in the boy. If my master were no longer a threat, then the boy would be in little danger of falling. From what I can see, neither of us wants that."

And it was driving Obi-wan nuts that he was taking so long to get to the point. "So, you would agree to leave Anakin be, no matter what, if I joined you."

"Only if we can eliminate Sidious' threat."

"So that you can take over," Obi-wan asked, his voice returning to the dryness it seemed to gravitate towards when speaking with Dooku.

"And restore peace," Dooku added on.

It was a tempting offer, if only because what the Sith said made sense. If they, together, could take out Sidious, and then Obi-wan could eliminate Dooku, then the threat would essentially be neutralized. And yet, there were just too many holes in Dooku's promise. He could easily have Anakin killed before they managed to confront Sidious and he would not have breached their agreement. Or if Anakin fell, he would be ripe for the picking and Dooku would stop at nothing to murder the boy.

No, he couldn't go with Dooku. As tempting as the offer was, he knew the Sith still planned on eliminating the threat Anakin represented, and Obi-wan would not have that.

He continued to make a show of debating the subject in his mind for a few more minutes. Dooku let him think it over. Then he spoke again, as if to sweeten the deal.

"The Jedi don't have to die either and we could end this war. That would be a fitting tribute to Qui-gon, don't you think?"

Always with Qui-gon. The younger man was beginning to think Dooku was as obsessed with his old apprentice as Obi-wan was with his own. Thinking about the man who had raised him still hurt though, in more ways than one. He looked away from the Sith, catching a glance at the time-piece against the wall behind him. He just had to buy time for a few more seconds…

So he decided to play along.

"It would," he agreed softly.

The confident smirk on Dooku's face almost radiated his triumph. "So, then you agree?"

Obi-wan paused and stared at the older man hard. "Anakin lives."

"Of course."

"And the children…"

"I have no intention of tearing down the Jedi, so there is no need to return them to their parents."

He bit the inside of his lip.

"Then yes," he whispered. "I accept."

xXx

Alright, I have issues with this chapter. That's why it's taken me so long to post it. That and my beta reader is having some health problems and couldn't get back to me. Actually, that brings me to another point. I'd very much like to ask if someone would beta this for me. I'm warning you that it gets worse before it gets better and this is going to be dark all the way. I know where I want to go with it, I know where I want to end it and I really just need some help getting there, if only it's someone to tell me that I need to stop being an idiot and just post the dang chapter.

Anyone who is a beta will have to be at least somewhat passively familiar with the Clone Wars series and the prequel trilogy. I'm more worried about character development and plot lines than I am about grammar (although good grammar does help immensely) and I need someone who can tell me an honest opinion and not be offended if I argue back. It's asking a lot, I know, but that's what I need. If you'd like to help, send me a note. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

_The concept of holding a grudge was not new to me. It felt new though. I hadn't held a grudge since my days as a Padawan. Perhaps even an initiate. It was…strange, and childish, and I knew I shouldn't harbor such emotions at all and so felt even more guilty because of it…which in turn just fed the darkness. It was a rather nasty spiral and, in true ironic fashion, I could only truly appreciate the trap of the Dark Side for what it was only once I found myself caught in it. _

_Really, Ventress should have played on my guilt to begin with. It would have allowed us to get over with the whole ordeal much faster._

"Then yes," Obi-wan whispered. "I accept." He hoped he'd made himself look nervous and contemplative enough. He made sure to keep his head down, eyes on the floor, hands folded so tightly in front of him the whites of the knuckles were showing. He played his part perfectly, despite how much he really hated doing this.

"Marvelous," Dooku said, eyes glittering greedily. "I will be your master, Darth Tyrannus, and you—," he went to step forward but cut off as his knee gave out on him, though, and he had to catch himself on one of the side tables.

Obi-wan made sure his expression seemed grim and confused. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Dooku frowned as he regained his footing. "I seem to have contracted an illness of some sort. I'm sure it is nothing to worry about."

Obi-wan still looked skeptical, playing the part of confused outsider perfectly. "Jedi rarely become sick," he said, letting that trail off.

"And it is little different for Sith," Dooku responded. "But rarely does not mean—"

A loud crash that had the entire estate shaking knocked Dooku off of his feet. Obi-wan merely stumbled into a table to his left, opposite of where the shock had come from. The silence that followed was deafening. Then the sound of more, smaller crashes sounded throughout the house.

"What was that?" Obi-wan asked warily.

"The sound someone makes when they are about to die," Dooku said angrily and he took out his pocket com.

"Report," he said tersely as he once again struggled to regain his feet. The device made no sound.

Dooku tried again. "Mister Forlay, I suggest you respond." Again, nothing. At that point, the Sith walked past Obi-wan as he studied the device in his hand. Obi-wan noticed the signs of forced casualness and couldn't help the smirk. That had come right on time.

"Is your com broken?" Obi-wan asked innocently. Actually, that was a cause of the EMP pulse that the speeder involved in the crash was supposed to set off before it plunged into the area of the estate that housed the main power systems. Oh, Obi-wan was sure that some com somewhere had been turned off and may therefore work, but it would take time to find it. Besides, a jammer should have been activated as soon as the crash had happened. No one in the household should be able to communicate with anyone outside of the estate.

"It would appear so," Dooku muttered as he walked out of the room, gesturing for Obi-wan to follow. He did so.

They had gone through about two rooms when they ran into someone, obviously a servant by the looks of the girl.

"Count Dooku, Sir!" the girl said in a calm voice, although Obi-wan could see her shaking. "We're so glad you're alright."

"What happened?" Dooku asked, his voice sporting a no-nonsense tone.

"It seems an out-of-control speeder crashed into the estate."

Dooku paused and narrowed his eyes in the girl's direction. She fidgeted under the stare. "How did one get past the shields?"

She glanced away nervously for just a moment before straightening her back, causing the modest uniform-dress she wore to look even more severe. "We're not sure, sir."

Obi-wan made a mental note to send his accomplices a large tip.

"You are not sure?" the Sith asked, his voice neutral but his stance threatening. Obi-wan could feel the waves of growing anger through the Force and frowned. The last thing he needed was for Dooku to become more powerful. Still, he didn't wish to draw attention to himself at this point, or Dooku might put it all together, so he kept quiet.

"Well, I suggest you find out then," the Count said, his tone still threatening but dismissive.

"Yes, sir!" the girl squeaked and scurried away. After a moment, Dooku followed her and Obi-wan fell into step behind him. He was glad the Count had decided not to kill the girl in his anger. Obi-wan the Jedi would have stopped him from hurting her, but Obi-wan as he was now couldn't take the risk of turning Dooku's wrath against him…not just yet. It was one less casualty as far as the former Jedi was concerned.

They reached the main hall to see two or three people huddled by the enormous doors.

"Report!" Dooku barked as they approached.

All three of the servants, men dressed in similar clothing to the girl, snapped to attention.

"Sir!" one of the men said, stepping forward. "A speeder has—"

"Yes, I know," Dooku responded with a wave of his hand. "Why were the shields down?"

"Sir," another man stepped forward.

"Head Groundskeeper Jobak," Dooku said with a stiff nod.

"We have coordinated the gardeners and other groundskeepers into an organized party to search the grounds for any device that would have disrupted the shields." The man kept his back ram-rod straight and looked rather constipated in Obi-wan's opinion.

"Disrupted the shields?" Dooku asked, his voice so dangerously low that Obi-wan had a hard time hearing it.

The first man spoke again, this time looking rather nervous. "Sir, it is possible for a device to cause enough local disruption in a shield. If it is strong enough, a vehicle going fast enough could conceivably break through."

Dooku looked at the three for a few moments, contemplating their words. "So you—" and he choked in mid sentence, falling to one knee rather suddenly. Obi-wan couldn't have asked for a better reaction.

"Sir!" all three of the men rushed forward.

"He said he wasn't feeling well," Obi-wan said as he caught the older man's arm. "What's going on?"

"And just who are you?" One of the men asked suspiciously.

Obi-wan reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. "I came to try and negotiate for peace." To his side, he felt Dooku stiffen. So, he was still aware at this point? Quite the accomplishment.

"What?" one of the men exclaimed. Obi-wan went on as if he hadn't heard, speaking lowly, half to himself, half to the servants.

The men seemed a bit at a loss and turned to their leader. "Sir, is this true?" Dooku didn't answer as he was breathing hard and clutching at his chest and throat. The choking sensation should pass soon enough and he had to get him away from the servants before then.

"You can check the surveillance," Obi-wan stated dryly, knowing very well that there had to have been some in the room but counting on the fact that they wouldn't be able to access it for a while.

"We could if the crash hadn't taken out the power, Republic scum."

Okay, they were getting a little too protective, and Obi-wan needed them to leave. He really didn't want to have to kill them. That would leave a trail and too many clues leading to him…not that that was too much of a problem… Still, this would all be done far more quickly if he could just get in and get out. Besides, he needed witnesses. That was the point of this whole shenanigan.

"Instead of arguing, perhaps we should get him to his room," he said with a casual wave of his hand, twisting the Force as subtly as he could into their thoughts.

It worked.

"Right," one of the men said. "We'll deal with you later. Let's get him to his room!"

With that, he threw his employer's arm over his shoulder. Obi-wan did the same with the other arm and the three of them made for the rather enormous staircase.

"Perhaps you should help with the search," Obi-wan said to the other two over his shoulder, waving his hand towards the door.

"Yes, we should help with the search," the one that hadn't yet spoken said uneasily. They both looked a little torn, but the Force suggestion had been rather strong and apparently Dooku didn't have a problem employing people who weren't resistant to mind tricks. Actually, knowing the Count, that made sense.

The other agreed with a nod and together, they rushed out the door. Obi-wan continued to help the other man carry Dooku up the stairs.

"Has he had any problems before this?" Obi-wan asked once they'd reached the second floor and started down it.

"No," the man said tersely.

They continued down the hall (that really belonged more in a palace than an estate) and stopped at yet another door, this one tastefully decorated with elegant but minimal carvings around the edges and down the center. Identical tables with ornate vases placed in the center stood on either side of the doorway, the only decoration in the hall besides the classic artwork from a multitude of planets hanging at measured intervals on the walls.

"I can't open it," the man said with a glare in Obi-wan's direction. "Only someone like you can."

Obi-wan blinked at him. "Someone like me?"

"There's some sort of mechanism that only you freaky Force users can open."

Obi-wan looked between him and the door for a moment before realization came to him. "Oh."

With that, he closed his eyes and reached for the Force. The darkness came to him almost immediately and he suppressed a shudder as he grasped at it. Then he went for the door, probing it. Nothing. He couldn't find anything. He continued to feel around, but again, nothing came to him.

"Any time now," the servant said impatiently. Obi-wan shot him an angry glare. His own frustration was building and he was having a very difficult time controlling his emotions. Of course, as the frustration built, more of the dark power came to him and he pushed it towards the door, angrily searching for that mechanism that—

Wait, there! He felt just the tiniest nudge and examined it more closely. Yes, he was sure that the nudge was the key to opening the door. If he just inspected it a little…yes, there! He had to control it, thread it through in just the right way, but he could do it. It might be harder with the Dark Side, but he could still…

A mechanism clicked and the doors swung inward, showing a large sitting room and an even larger bed chamber beyond it.

"Took you long enough," the man muttered. "Why are you even here?"

Obi-wan shot him a dry look. "You may want to be more specific." And if there was just the slightest threat in that, hopefully the man wouldn't notice or pay it much heed.

Fortunately, the servant just rolled his eyes. "Why are you helping him back here at all?"

"Where else would I go?"

The man shrugged (a rather difficult task with Dooku's arm still draped over his shoulder, but he managed it). "I don't really know and I don't particularly care."

Obi-wan would have expected that such an apathetic comment would bother him in his new status, but to his surprise, he found it didn't. It showed an extremist way of thinking that would make the man's mind easier to manipulate directly. He still frowned at the man for show, though. He had a part to play after all.

"This can't be a coincidence," he said, as if to return to his own thoughts, speaking quietly but just loud enough that the other man could hear.

"What?" the servant asked.

Obi-wan shot him a dry expression as they approached the large, four-poster bed. Honestly, the opulence in this place was enough to make any Jedi (or former Jedi) sick.

"There's an attack on the estate just after I come here to negotiate? Very few knew of this but I don't believe in coincidences."

From the man's thinning lips, he didn't either, so Obi-wan continued. "But no one knew of my mission to come and…" he faded off and then stopped walking, causing the other man to stop as well, shooting the Jedi a dirty look. They were only a few steps away from their goal.

"It can't be…" Obi-wan whispered, widening his eyes and tensing his muscles. "It…he can't…"

The servant caught on. "What? What is it?"

"I have to leave, now!" the former Jedi hissed to the man.

"But—"

"Hurry!" Obi-wan took another step forward and hefted Dooku onto the bed.

"What's going on?!" the servant demanded. Obi-wan reached out with the Force as he turned to the man, who was struggling to get his master onto the velvet coverings.

"He's coming," Obi-wan said over his shoulder as he rushed towards the door. "If I don't get out now I—" He cut off abruptly and his eyes widened in shock as he looked at the window behind the man. The servant whirled around just as Obi-wan nudged at his mind.

"Sleep," he whispered, and the man fell to the ground in a dead faint. He'd be out for a while. Good. That would give Obi-wan the time he needed. Taking his lightsaber out, Obi-wan then reached for the window and pulled. It groaned and twisted as the Force of the former Jedi's pull tore it from its hangings, just enough that someone could get into the room. An alarm went off somewhere, but Obi-wan had little concern. Undoubtedly the door could be opened upon emergency from the servants, but he still bet it would take them a while to arrive and open it.

Then Obi-wan fell into a kata, allowing his body to follow the familiar movements and not caring what his lightsaber slashed. The more evidence he left of a lightsaber battle, the better.

After a few minutes, he glanced in satisfaction around the room. One or two more objects knocked over here and there, and he had a nicely staged defense.

"So," a voice from the bed, "you came to kill me."

"I see your paralysis has worn off," Obi-wan said, unable to help the smug tone in his voice as he walked over to the side where Dooku lay, watching him with dull eyes.

"Stintonata Peragito parasite," came the reply.

"I'm impressed," the younger man responded casually.

"You inoculated yourself against it," Dooku said, his voice wheezy and tired.

"It was an inoculation they gave me at the healing facility, so this won't look suspicious."

The older man gasped, his hands clenching into the material under him.

"Oh, yes. You should be reaching quite a painful stage right now," Obi-wan commented, then he thought back and decided a little gloating wouldn't hurt too much. "You know, I would have given you the antidote myself if you would have agreed to my terms." He smiled triumphantly as he withdrew a small breathing apparatus that he'd claimed was for his healing. The detention center had tested the substance inside, which was indeed a breathing stimulant, but they wouldn't have been looking for the small variant that would kill the parasite he'd brought to the planet.

Stintonata Peragito was a parasite that was somehow attracted to Force Sensitives. It had been eradicated on almost every planet in the inner core (and most of the Republic) for centuries, so the inoculations weren't given except when a Jedi was sent to certain planets within the few pockets of space that were known to have sheltered the species. The inoculation wore off after a few years, and Obi-wan had bet that Dooku hadn't gotten one before he'd left. Apparently, he'd been correct. Not that he didn't have a contingency plan in place. Or three.

The parasite wouldn't kill him. It would only incapacitate him for a while, which was all Obi-wan needed.

"You never suspected because you're right in the fact that I still think too much like a Jedi," he continued, watching the writhing figure with a strange sort of fascination. He wouldn't go so far as to call it pleasure, but he did find that he didn't want to look away. "That, at least, wasn't an act. I do still think like a Jedi in a great many ways, but in other ways…well, the darkness has taught me to be ruthless. I'll simply have to deal with your Master now."

Dooku finally relaxed, wheezing and coughing. After a moment, he glanced over at Obi-wan. "Despite that…I believe…you make a better Sith…than you do a Jedi. Well done."

Obi-wan's anger flared and he took out his lightsaber as his eyes narrowed. Outside he could sense people coming, gathering outside of the door. He had to kill Dooku and leave…this was the right thing to do—it was for Anakin, after all…

And yet he hesitated. If it was the right thing to do, then why did it feel so wrong?

Strangely enough, Obi-wan could only see grim acceptance in his enemy's eyes. "If you…do this…you can...never…go back."

"I already can't go back," Obi-wan said bitterly. This wasn't the first time he'd killed. It was the first time he'd done so in cold blood, when the other opponent hadn't been armed. Well, Dooku did have his lightsaber clipped to he waist…Obi-wan would have to remember to take that. It would help to complete the image he was going for.

And still, he didn't slice down.

Dooku must have sensed the hesitation, or perhaps he saw it in the younger man's eyes.

"Do…what you…came to…do…my…apprentice."

And, despite knowing very well that Dooku had meant for it to spur him on, he allowed the anger to drive him forward and he sliced down into the man's throat. It cut so easily. Why had it been so hard for him before?

"I will never be a Sith," he said spitefully as he deactivated the saber. He looked down at the body of the Count, of his master's master, and wasn't sure what he felt. Part of him reveled in the fact that he had orchestrated and successfully eliminated an enemy. The other half of him was nothing short of disgusted.

Finally, after a few moments, he pushed the conflict from his head for now. What was done was done, and he didn't regret it. It didn't take him long to find a few spare blankets and wrap them up in the robe he'd worn. Then he threw it over his shoulder in the assimilation of a body. It wouldn't be difficult to project the image of a different man into the minds of anyone who didn't look too closely as he escaped. The dark-colored tunic he'd worn had a hood attached, and that would have to do for now. He yanked the material up and over his head.

Then, just as the doors burst open, he called Dooku's saber to his hand and rushed out of the window. Shouts of surprise and dismay followed him as he slowed his momentum with the Force and then bounded across the lawn. He activated Dooku's lightsaber to deflect any bolts sent his way and it wasn't too difficult to make it to the wall that encircled Dooku's family's land.

An old, fairly dilapidated speeder awaited him in the woods not a click from where he'd leapt over the wall. He had indeed been lucky to find people sympathetic to the Republic (or at least who wanted the war to end) on Serenno. Then again, with his contacts it had only really been a matter of time. Being a Jedi that traveled the universe had it's perks.

Still, as he set the roll of blankets across the back of the speeder, he couldn't help but marvel at just how well everything had gone. Yes, he'd had to improvise a bit, but after living through raising Anakin, it really hadn't been difficult at all. Everything else had gone swimmingly for the most part…which made him wonder what he'd forgotten. In his experience, something always went wrong, and when everything went right, something had been overlooked.

He hoped that that something wouldn't pop up soon. Unexpected instances could ruin the best laid plans. Still, he could not for the life of him think of anything he'd missed.

Speeding at full-throttle through the trees that made up the forest around Dooku's estate was not a serious challenge and soon enough, he found himself approaching the city the Sith had found him in. A small, one-man fighter, one he'd bought from this planet several days before specifically for this purpose, waited in a hangar just inside the gates.

He had to duck a patrol or two (it seemed security was already on the lookout for him, but he had expected as much) but he made it to the hangar without serious incident. Not questioning his good luck, he gratefully he shoved the cumbersome roll of bedding into the back of the cockpit and then waited for clearance to leave. It wouldn't be coming for a while. Undoubtedly there would be a planetary lock down of some sort. He wasn't worried. He could mind trick most of the people he would run into and he doubted many people would recognize him as Obi-wan Kenobi without his beard. Still, a change of clothing would probably not be amiss. He had time, after all. He also had to visit the ship he'd come in. It would be a shame to have to leave it here, but it would complete the scenario he'd created.

Making his mind up, he locked the fighter up again after checking to make sure everything still worked and headed out, keeping to the shadows as he did. It might even help if a few cameras caught glimpses of him—a dark, mysterious figure they would be hard-pressed to place—as he went along…

xXx

Later that night, he managed to get into an interstellar com booth. He had a new cloak bought specifically for this purpose draped over his head and a pre-set, simple coding that shouldn't be too difficult for any slicer worth his salt to crack. This really was so underhanded, but it was for Anakin and the Jedi and the Republic. It might even help to bring the two sides together.

Finally he pushed the transmit button to a dummy phone he'd set up earlier that week specifically for this purpose when he'd visited a few core worlds. After a moment, he bowed to the com transmitter and began his message.

He'd really like to see the Sith Lord's reaction to this…

xXx

Ma-karolin DeJoon hated her job. Alright, that wasn't completely true. She hated the hours her job had her work. She actually rather liked her job, but she was lucky to get a few hours of sleep a day. She knew she was the new person on the team and that she just had to wait this out a little longer—just until she decoded her big break—but it was still difficult.

Of course, she was one of dozens of people who had been hired by LCWN, the largest news station on Lettow. Still, she was good at her job, so it really was only a matter of time.

Actually, she was working on a message she'd intercepted just recently. It had been coded, but after taking a close look at it, she'd realized that it was something she could work with, and she felt positive she could decode it.

She'd been working on it for almost her entire shift now, and she was so close. She just needed to—

And then the pad she'd set up the input to lit up with a cloaked figure.

"My master," it said respectfully. "To become your apprentice, I have fulfilled my mission. Count Dooku, your former apprentice Darth Tyrannus, is dead by my hand. As a bonus, I found the Jedi General his people lost with him, trying to convince him to reconsider peace." The figure paused and sighed, then grinned. "I was able to recapture him and he is now in my custody.

"I was not able to secure all information and thus do not know if you are implicated in anything he owned, my Master. My apologies for my failure. As a Sith, I will accept any punishment you see fit.

"This is my report. I look forward to seeing you upon my arrival to Courscant. I received your request to meet you beneath the Senate building after your meeting. I will be there, Master."

And then the disk's light faded and Ma-karolin stared at it with an open mouth, stunned.

Then she remembered that she'd been hoping for something like this. If this wasn't a big break, she didn't know what was.

xXx

The news had spread all over the inner core worlds within a galactic standard hour. To say the Republic was shocked would be an understatement. The Jedi in particular couldn't help but cower in fear—just about the only good thing to come from this entire debacle.

Darth Sidious seethed in his private chambers. He had ensured that they were shielded from the Jedi, he needed places to retreat where the fools couldn't detect him, after all, but even now he felt that he would be breaking through the barrier through sheer anger.

32 seconds. That was all it took to tear down everything he'd built for decades. It wasn't a completely lost cause yet, but when he considered what damage had been done…

Firstly, Dooku was dead. That in and of itself put the largest dent in Palpatine's plans. He'd needed his apprentice (former apprentice now) to head the Separatists and keep the conflict going. To make matters worse, the Separatists were communicating with the Republic. Apparently, the story of what few witnesses there were corroborated the supposedly intercepted message.

Add onto that the fact that the Sith had been revealed in a very negative light to the entire galaxy (not just the Jedi, which would have been undesirable but manageable) _and_ the fact that the supposed 'apprentice' had also implicated someone in the upper echelon of the Senate…

32 seconds.

As he calmed and considered the situation, turning the raging fire into a burning ice so he could logically consider all of the options, he began to realize just how well planned out it had been.

To his knowledge, there were only two people that had a somewhat complete picture of the entire situation: himself and one Obi-wan Kenobi. That was who this new 'apprentice' had to be. Because he had no new apprentice (Anakin would be his eventually, but the boy was too stubborn and resistant at the moment), he highly doubted there was another Force user there (a darksider he didn't know about was unthinkable, even if he had felt some rather strange disturbances lately), which left Kenobi as the perpetrator.

He could see Kenobi infiltrating and trying to kill Dooku, probably on orders from the Useless Council, but he hadn't even guessed that in the unlikely scenario that the Jedi would win. Tyrannus had been strong, but indeed, he had seen the smuggled autopsy reports and he'd felt the death through the Force as well. He had little doubt that his apprentice was, in fact, dead, and he would venture that it was by Kenobi's hand. And yet, those reports also stated that Dooku had been incapacitated by a parasite and then killed in cold blood. No Jedi would do that. It would take them too far from their precious light…which brought up only one real conclusion: Kenobi had fallen.

Palpatine stared straight ahead and into the darkness of his chambers, face blank as he processed that. It felt right. The darkness he had always clung to whispered an affirmative as it whirled around him in a wild magnificence he'd always been so attracted to With the disturbances…yes, it made sense…but Kenobi? He had been the epitome of the idealistic, light Jedi. Even Sidious had a hard time imagining the man in any other way.

That would also mean that the figure in the hologram had been Kenobi. He'd been the one to undermine everything. Yes, that felt right too… And then he smiled. From the tone in Kenobi's voice and how he'd gone about exposing the Sith, he obviously had no intentions of joining Sidious, but the Chancellor could be very persuasive. If he could just get a hold of the man…it would prove difficult because just as he had reasoned out Dooku's murderer's identity, he had little doubt that Kenobi would eventually find 'The Sith Lords' if he hadn't already. It really depended on what Dooku had told the man, but Sidious always erred on the side of caution—when he erred at all.

Still, Kenobi already made an excellent general, plus his emotional ties to the Chosen One could be extremely beneficial in the future. Not to mention that Kenobi seemed to possess an intelligence that neither Dooku or Maul had ever showed potential for. In one, fell swoop, he had practically undone decades of work. Not only that, but he had done all of this in a little over a month by his reckoning.

Sidious contemplated that. The man was a threat. A rather large one at that, and he would have to be either eliminated or brought to his side. Still, if he was a fallen Jedi, then he was already halfway in Sidioius' pocket, whether he knew it or not. Yes, this could work out in his favor if he played his cards right.

And he was an excellent card player.

He turned his thoughts to damage control and ways that would ensure Kenobi's allegiance.

xXx

A/N: I've never written a fanfiction that insists on being written nanowrimo style before...as in I'm just getting everything down as quickly as I can before I make any adjustments. This is the first time I've broken that rule for almost four months...*scratches head* Dang.

Anyway, again I'm not the happiest with this chapter, but it is much better than it was thanks to Windona! She's become my most recent beta reader and she's incredible! :D

Life has thrown several loops at me recently (a boyfriend, a severe car accident that I managed to walk away from, weddings, other car problems, friends in crisis, etc.) and as such, well, I'd really like to say this will be updated soon, and it might even be for a while, but I have to focus on finding a job and trying to pay off crap from the accident, etc. so no guarantees. Sorry guys. (Note: That's also why I haven't answered some of your awesome comments-I really just don't have the time right now, but I do read every single one of them and they do help me!) So thanks for all your support!


	7. Chapter 7

_From what I understand, most of those who fall to the Dark Side do so because of anger or fear. And why not? They are, After all, powerful, overwhelming emotions that can easily lead to hate. I'm sure an unhealthy lust taken to extremes could also conceivably become a path, and maybe there are others as well, but few realize that guilt can be just as smothering—just as empowering in its own right—as any of these. And unlike anger or fear, guilt allows me to keep a comparatively cool head. It is still difficult to direct my thought processes away from the suffocating traps of thought my mind has created for itself, but I am still able to follow a conclusion to its logical end—something that anger renders incredibly difficult._

_Even at my lowest points I could set up intricate plans and easily understand how each person involved would react for the most part. I wouldn't admit then that I found a certain freedom (although the guilt for it predictably and always came later) in not caring about each piece on the board beyond how they could play into my plans._

_So the Sith wanted more war and had planned for it? Well, two could play at that game._

Things had continued to go incredibly well. So well, in fact, that Obi-wan wondered when the next shoe would drop, so to speak. The Republic and Separatists were both entertaining talks of peace, and while it still remained a very controversial subject, so many more people seemed open to the idea of reconciling their differences than before. Of course, that had been Obi-wan's goal. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, so they would have to work together to fight the Sith.

Unfortunately, the Separatists didn't trust a body that may very well be in the thrall of said Sith and the Republic seemed to be at a loss as to what to do regarding the subject. The Jedi, unsurprisingly, hadn't acted and so the war came to a stand-still—an unspoken truce as neither side really wanted to give into or trust the other just yet.

It was beyond frustrating, and yet, Obi-wan figured he should take what he could get. It was still one of the better results of this scenario.

Meanwhile, his progress with the Dark Side had become about as stagnant as the war. He'd figured out a few small details, mainly that the darkness was like an ocean—vast, encompassing, dangerous and full of ebbs and flows that, if one could sync up to it, could nicely mask the user's presence. At least he hoped so as he didn't exactly have anyone else there he could use to test his theory. It still felt wild and untamable, but he'd found a sort of middle ground where he could submerge himself and not get carried away by the emotions that doing so provoked.

Actually, he suspected that while his 'middle ground' had given him a sort of respite, it was also the reason why he couldn't progress anymore. He really didn't want to move deeper into the darkness, and finding any sort of peace with himself was so rare now that he didn't wish to chance losing what little he'd found.

It was frustrating at best, but as he couldn't do anything about it at the moment, it became a sort of routine for him to curse his circumstances (along with multiple insults about Ventress thrown in for good measure) on a fairly regular basis before he would shove it all to the side and try to work on his plans for the future. He knew he was living in the past, holding onto grudges and other things that he really shouldn't, but he couldn't seem to help himself—and he had tried.

The biggest problem was that after Serenno, he didn't really have a specific goal in mind. He had to defend Anakin and part of him also wished to help the Jedi as well, but as the war had come to that unspoken truce, few if any of the Jedi were in danger at the moment. He'd traveled to a few planets that still had problems and had been able to help a few times, but he still felt like he wasn't doing anything significant enough. So his next idea was to find and stop the monster that had attacked and killed several Jedi already—Grievous, from what the reports had said. His biggest problem there was that he had no idea where to even begin looking for the thing.

He hated not doing anything, and so he continued to work on getting his body better, despite the fact that he felt almost as good physically as he had before he'd been sent to Jabiim.

After a several weeks of doing little more than riding from planet to planet, trying to set up a network of spies, helping the Jedi he'd come across when he could and taking a card out of Anakin's data pad, aka gaining more money with the illegal racing circuits (hey, he may not like flying or racing, that didn't mean he couldn't do it), he decided that enough was enough. There were several planets that the Republic should have won over with the help of the population and their resources, but either due to misdirections or poor planning on the part of the Senate, such planets had been lost. Jabiim itself was a prime example.

If he could infiltrate some of the Separatist strongholds…

He realized that what he was thinking of doing would make him little more than an assassin, and he hated that idea, but he also found the thought of getting back at the Separatists quite appealing. It would also continue to make dents in the Sith Lord's plans…

But was he willing to go that far?

If it could help to end the war, then yes. Because ending the war was one of his ultimate goals (the first being to find and kill the Sith Lord). It would help to protect Anakin.

But then again, he needed to make sure that doing so didn't disrupt the peace treaties…of course, he could take the blame as the 'Sith Apprentice', but that would only work a few times. Anyone he killed would be on the Separatist side, more or less, and people would begin to notice. That could work to his advantage somewhat, but he still found it too unpredictable with the peace talks that were going on.

Once the war started back up though, (because he had no doubt that it would, the Sith in the Senate wouldn't allow for anything else) it was a real possibility.

He filed the thought away for later contemplation and continued to consider his next options. Inspiration came then in the form of a news report. He'd been sitting on his ship as he tried again to meditate (with more progress, but still nothing he felt could be of any real use) and had turned on a local station to keep up with the events in the war. It was a Republic station this time as that was the nearest at hand, but he also wished to sneak onto a planet under Separatist rule and see what their news stations said as well.

_"In further news, we have received confirmation that the peace talks between the Republic and the Separatists will occur, much to the surprise of many in the core of the Republic. The world chosen to host the talks, Mandalore, has declared itself neutral ground and welcomes both the Republic and the Separatists as the Duchess Satine Kryze of the planet has been vocally pushing for peace since the beginning of the war. _

Then a very familiar voice came over the wave, pulling at Obi-wan's heart strings rather painfully.

_"This is a great opportunity we cannot let slip. We have a chance to rise above the fighting and the aggression that has torn our galaxy in two and Mandalore will support this whole heartedly." _

The news anchor came back on and Obi-wan wasn't sure whether he was grateful or annoyed.

_The Chancellor himself has confirmed that he will attend these meetings, despite the fact that the Separatists have not yet announced a representative. As protection and to help aid the process of these peace talks, he is taking a veritable entourage of Jedi, including the Master Mace Windu and our own Hero-With-No-Fear, young Anakin Skywalker. _

_The peace talks will be held a galactic standard week from now, and we here on Martiol wish them luck. _

Obi-wan was up in a moment and had switched the news station off, already preparing a flight plan. Within the next hour, he'd gotten clearance and was already on his way to Mandalore. He could not see any conceivable way that this would not explode in everyone's face, and so he would be there to protect his own.

xXx

Getting to the planet wasn't difficult. Getting _onto_ the planet was. The security had skyrocketed, and Obi-wan couldn't help but be very relieved. It would mean that less had the possibility of anything untoward happening to throw everything into chaos.

Still, it would mean that getting his own ship down wouldn't be easy. Then again, he hadn't been raised as a Jedi for nothing. It would take just the right timing and the right size of a convoy, but he was willing to wait. He may not be as patient as he used to be, but he'd always believed that anyone could be patient with the right motivation.

It took him two days of floating powered down near the entry points for hyperspace before he found his opening. Not exactly the safest thing to do as ships could easily crash into him with little warning as they came out of hyperspace, but he was confident that the Force would warn him if something like that were to happen. It did. Twice.

The third time, though, he managed to fall in at the tail end of a larger convoy of trading ships, and once entering the atmosphere, it was simply a matter of landing in just the right spot. It took him several hours to find and pay off the dock worker, as well as mind trick him into forgetting he'd met with Obi-wan but not that he'd accepted the bribe. It was easy enough that he had begun to have his doubts about the security after all.

After that, he simply went about his usual routine of trying to set up contacts and scouting out the local areas.

He'd been to Mandalore in his past, many years before, when he and Qui-gon had first come to meet and protect the Dutchess Satine. It had been a war-torn, rubble-strewn planet then. It had transformed into a rather lovely little jewel of peace since. He was surprised at just how much had changed.

There were still areas that were under construction or had been more or less abandoned to whatever decided to inhabit them, though. It had only been a few decades, after all. They couldn't fix the entire world in that time, no matter how much support Satine had had.

Those were the areas that Obi-wan focused on. By the time the Chancellor arrived, Obi-wan had already found and taken out three cells of varying strength and organization that had planned to stop the talks.

He knew the moment the Jedi arrived in the system. The ripples in the Dark Side swirled madly, like displaced water with a vindictive sentience. There was also something else—something off that he couldn't quite place. Was it the Sith? Just who had come with the Chancellor…?

And then, as it often does, inspiration struck seemingly out of the blue and at random.

"Palpatine," he whispered aloud, because somehow his brain put all the clues that Dooku had given him together—and in a strange, sick kind of way, it all made sense. He knew Anakin quite well, he was a part of (in the upper echelons of) the Senate and had been sitting there under the Jedis' nose for decades.

Palpatine was Sidious.

"Oh, Force," he muttered, grateful for the shock that seemed to block any overwhelming emotions. Oh, they would come later…and stang! Palpatine would be able to feel him! He couldn't stay for long then…but he couldn't leave Anakin near that man either! And the Jedi wouldn't believe him if he tried to tell them, and neither would Anakin. He had to try, though. He had to, but…

The numb dam of shock broke and the sheer enormity of what he had taken on himself washed over him, almost overwhelming him.

He fell to his knees in the alley he'd been walking through, ignoring the grit and rubble that tore at the palms of his hands and knees. Dooku had been right. He really hadn't known what he was doing!

No! He wouldn't—_couldn't_—think like that! Forcing his mind away from all of that, he reminded himself that he just had one goal right now: protect Anakin, and by proxy the peace talks. If he focused on that, he could do this. Yes. One step at a time. The Chancellor may be a powerful man and a Sith, but he was still just a man in the long run, and men could be dealt with.

It took him a few minutes, but finally he forced himself to his feet and continued on his way.

He had plans to hammer out, after all.

xXx

Anakin stood staring out of the view port of the ship, his arms crossed in front of him. He loved the view of the stars. It had always proved to be calming to him in a way that Jedi techniques could never really touch. He could always seem to just think things through when he stared out into space. Obi-wan had once commented that it was Anakin's own type of meditation, but that it was a pale reflection of true meditation.

Before Jabiim that would have brought him nothing but frustration and anger towards his master. Now the frustration was still there, but it was backed by a sort of sorrowful loss and confusion. Without his master's presence he only felt a hole had grown in his soul—one that he doubted he could ever fill.

It all boiled down to the fact that he really just wanted his master back. Despite what he'd told the Council, he'd gone over and over the note his master had left for him in his mind. Why would Obi-wan leave and then apologize? Was he apologizing for leaving or for something else?

The sound of a door opening behind him drew his attention, but he didn't turn from the calming gaze of the stars.

"Ah, there is our hero with no fear," a familiar, jovial voice called from behind him. Anakin wanted to sigh. The news stations had heard of some of his exploits and had decided to give him the moniker. In truth, he liked it, but any accomplishments felt hollow without Obi-wan here to see them.

He wanted to keep looking into the stars, somehow believing, despite the illogicality of it all, that they held all the answers. However, he knew it would be rude to not at least turn and acknowledge his visitor.

"Chancellor," he said as he turned, nodding his head respectfully.

The older man paused and looked at Anakin worriedly. "You have bags under your eyes, my boy. Have you been sleeping well?"

No, he hadn't. Not since before Jabiim. Still, he didn't want to worry the Chancellor. After all, the kind, old man had more than enough on his plate.

"It's nothing," he said, forcing a smile.

The man frowned in disapproval. "You should take better care of yourself." Then he paused and the worry increased ever so slightly. "Do you have something on your mind?"

Anakin was determined to not unload his concerns on the Chancellor. He did that far too often as it was. There was just something about the man that made Anakin feel he could trust him. He never could figure out exactly what.

"It's _nothing_," Anakin insisted. "And I promise that I will be able to stay focused enough to protect you."

The Chancellor raised one eyebrow. "Of that I have no doubt, my young friend. The Jedi aren't pushing you too much, are they?"

Well, he did feel that they liked to push him, but that wasn't the big problem here.

"No," he said, trying to appease the Chancellor. "It's just…" and he faded off because he still did not want to go off when the head of the Republic really should be focusing on the upcoming treaties and not anything else.

And then the man's expression changed to one of enlightenment. "Ah, it's about your master, isn't it."

He didn't say it as a question.

Anakin sighed. Was he really that transparent? He turned back to the window without responding.

"Ah, it is."

Well, there wasn't much of a point in holding back. There wasn't anyone else in the viewing room either.

"It's just…why did he leave? I don't understand. Even if it was to try and speak to Dooku, I can't see why he didn't take backup with him. It makes no sense." Anakin had been so sure that Obi-wan would never abandon him—would never leave him to fend for himself. The man's steady presence had always been there and now…

Somehow he knew that this was all Ventress' fault. Anakin almost wished Obi-wan hadn't killed her so he could go after the woman himself.

"I won't profess to understand the mind of a Jedi, but your master never struck me as particularly unwise. A little demanding, perhaps, but then no one is perfect. I'm sure he had his reasons."

Anakin frowned. Everyone close to him kept telling him that. What few friends he still had at the Temple, Padmé, the Chancellor… But no matter what they said, Anakin still couldn't come up with a conceivably good reason.

"I can't help but wonder," Palpatine said almost as if to himself. Anakin didn't like the tone in his voice.

"What?" he asked warily.

The Chancellor blinked in surprise up at his young friend. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm sure I don't have the experience to really speculate on such things."

"Please tell me," Anakin said, more as a demand than a request.

The older man suddenly seemed uneasy. "Well, it's just…the apprentice that has been all over the news..."

Anakin tensed at the mention of the figure that had claimed to recapture his master. If he ever found that being, Ventress' fate would look kind in comparison, especially if he found his master in a similar condition as he had when Ventress had captured him.

"Could it be Obi-wan?"

It took several seconds for Anakin to wrap his mind around what the Chancellor had just said. At first his mind only registered shock that someone—_anyone—_would even _suggest_ that Obi-wan of all people would…

And then the anger came. He didn't care that he rarely if ever got angry at the Chancellor. He didn't care that the possibility was there. At that moment, he only saw the older man as he saw the Jedi Council, all talk and no action. Always judging and deciding without knowing or taking into account the whole truth. Always condemning Obi-wan…

At that moment he only felt the stab of betrayal and rush of anger at the mere suggestion against his master.

"Obi-wan would never do such a thing! No one believed in him last time and look at what happened! I will never stop looking for him!" Somewhere in his mind he recognized that he was going too far, that yelling at the Chancellor was not a good idea. He wanted to say more—to scream, and yell and rant and force everyone to listen to themselves! Make them listen to him! Then he realized that he would regret anything else he said and despite everything, the Chancellor was his friend. So he clenched his fists, snapped his mouth closed, turned and walked deliberately out of the room.

"Anakin, wait! I didn't mean to—" But Anakin didn't hear the end of the sentence as the door closed behind him and he stalked off in a huff. If anyone would have been in the room with the Chancellor, they might have seen the satisfied—almost hungry—smile that stole across his face.

xXx

Mace Windu had not allowed himself to indulge in petty complaints and whining for decades. Even in his own mind he tried to think more about how he could fix something undesirable than to dwell on the undesirable fact to begin with.

Anakin Skywalker managed to get him to break his record of self control in less than half a day. The boy was nothing that Mace envisioned a Jedi _should _be and didn't seem to have any desire to change. He justified and rationalized when he should own up and change. He charged in without looking when it would be far more prudent to stop and think. He was emotional, reckless and prone to attachments, and quite frankly, if it weren't for his friendship with Anakin's (former?) Master, he wouldn't have put himself through the agony that came in the form of their supposed chosen one.

And that had all been _before_ they'd landed on the planet. None of this was helped by the fact that Mace had had a vaguely 'off' feeling about the entire trip. He couldn't place it or define it or even really assign anything but 'different' to the feeling, but it was there and it bothered him.

Mandalore itself looked rather nice at first glance, but a closer look would prove just how controversial the planet's current stance on the war was to the Mandalorian people. Then take into account how the system had fixed its supposed problems—by banishing anyone who really disagreed, no matter how justified—to a nearby moon in exile…and that just didn't sit right with the Council Head. He felt the Duchess was somehow both simultaneously jaded and an idealist who had experience with conflict but no actual understanding of the war itself (and despite this considered herself an expert of sorts because of her background and the desirable outcome of said conflict) and he couldn't understand why he seemed to be the only person who noticed all of this.

He didn't understand why the Chancellor had decided to take such a risk of coming here himself, why he had insisted on specific Jedi and why he seemed to be so optimistic about a situation that really had more chances of going seriously wrong than they had of turning out even somewhat neutral. He also couldn't understand why Yoda had insisted that he be the one to look after the speeder-wreck that was Obi-wan's Padawan. Probably because he was the only one who had a chance at holding the boy back from his destructive tendencies.

Mace especially disliked that he and the other Jedi that had come to Mandalore had all been reduced to little more than a Security Force with no real freedom to act should anything happen. Instead, their job resembled something more akin to glorified guard and errand duty than anything a Jedi should be called upon for. So why were the Jedi sent out on patrols on a waste of time and energy when they _should_ be guarding the Chancellor? Why did the head of the Republic insist that the Jedi could help with the mundane when they had other things they had to do? The entire situation was trying his not inconsiderable patience rather thoroughly.

So all in all, he disapproved of the entire situation and everything it was built on. The Jedi should be trying to ferret out the Sith in the Senate and his new apprentice, not sitting here on a neutral planet doing nothing.

He knew he wasn't in the best of moods and that no matter how often he released his frustration to the Force it seemed to come back time and time again. The fact that he could not escape Skywalker for more than a few hours at best did not help.

That was how he found himself tromping through the underground of Mandalore on a useless patrol for security with a certain Padawan (who seemed to be in an even more foul mood than Mace) in tow.

The worst part about the whole thing was that he actually agreed with Skywalker…for once. Not that he'd ever let the boy know. That would swell his already oversized head to an even greater size and would somehow (although he could not imagine how) become even more insufferable.

"—and I don't get why we're even here! The security on the planet is fine! We could be doing other things!" Like continue to look for a knight that Mace was sure wouldn't be coming back. There had been such a finality about the note Obi-wan had left. It hurt. It also bothered him that the boy couldn't seem to stop focusing on the situation and that he was lying to himself. However, Mace also remembered feeling certain that Obi-wan had died when he'd disappeared on Jabiim and as such couldn't really bring himself to dissuade the only person who had believed in the Knight's survival. At least not yet. If Anakin kept pushing him, though…

"We're here because the Chancellor requested for us to be. These talks may very well end the war."

Anakin scoffed. "No one really believes that, including you. The Separatists won't do anything as long as we have a supposed Sith in the Senate." Which brought them back to the problem that every Jedi had been contemplating for the last month. Some of them had even considered leaving the Order and the Republic because of it. Even Yoda couldn't see what the outcome of this conflict would be, and that weighed as heavily on every Council Member's shoulders as a neutron star.

"That won't be the case for much longer," Mace said shortly. He was about to add on a scolding for good measure when a ripple ran through the Force and he stopped, trying to concentrate on it. Anakin didn't notice.

"It will be if we're stuck out here doing nothing!"

The ripple vanished, slipping out of Mace's grasp and leaving only the smallest residue thanks to his current charge's distraction. At that moment, Mace would have done anything to just get away from the boy's incessant prattle. He'd hoped to find some kind of clarity on this mission, not…_this. _Anakin's general attitude always grated on Mace's nerves and at this point he'd had enough. Days and days of this would cause anyone to snap, at least that was what he told himself later.

"Besides, it doesn't matter what everyone else does or doesn't believe because this is a chance at peace and it must be taken, no matter how small the probability of a positive outcome. Or would you rather we simply let this stalemate continue until the Sith and his apprentice find someone else to run their war and start killing more people?"

"Of course not," Anakin returned heatedly. "But we should be looking for the Sith and the apprentice! Our being here does nothing!"

"Our being here shows our support of the Republic and its ideals," Mace said, somehow maintaining his calm exterior. He thanked years of practice and habit.

"I thought we were here to serve the people, not the Republic," Anakin sniped.

The comment surprised Mace. Usually Anakin was firmly on the side of the Republic, to a point where he almost put his loyalty to his friends and acquaintances in the Senate over the Jedi. Still, he'd had enough of Anakin's constant questioning of the Council's decisions. Didn't he know they had the Jedi's best interests at heart?

"That's enough!" he said firmly. "No matter what we would prefer, we are here now. We should do our jobs thoroughly and without complaint."

"But—" Anakin started in, but Mace cut him off.

"I'm going to go and scout through that building over there. You continue with the patrol. I will catch up."

And before the boy could say anything else, Mace turned and stalked quickly through the door following what he could still feel of that. The building had obviously once been a large structure of some importance, but half of it had collapsed and it had apparently been abandoned since before the civil war on the planet. Mace assumed that the government hadn't gotten around to either reconstructing it or dismantling it yet, but it was also some place that seemed a prime candidate for unsavory deeds to take place. Out of the way, abandoned and spacious enough to hold several people in those rooms still intact.

Once inside, he quickly scanned the area with the Force and frowned when he found nothing. He'd been almost positive that he would find something. He wasn't sure what. The Force had nudged him in this direction. Admittedly he'd taken the opportunity to get away from Skywalker as much as to follow a prompting. He'd had to before he lost his temper—which would not have been desirable at all. Mace knew he wasn't perfect, but he figured he should at least practice what he preached. He was determined to not lose his temper in front of Anakin, ever…although he wasn't sure if that was his pride talking or a genuine concern for the boy. Mace may not approve of Skywalker, but that didn't mean he didn't want to help him. The rash 20-year-old just couldn't see how much the Council just wanted to—

"You shouldn't treat him like that," a cold voice suddenly sounded and Mace jumped. The vague 'off' feeling he'd had the entire trip intensified as he whirled around, lightsaber in hand.

In his shock at what he saw before him his instinctual reaction to ignite it was stopped in its tracks.

He knew the man who stood before him, even if he couldn't place a name. On a recent skirmish on one planet that hadn't wanted to hold to the stalemate, Mace had been lured away and ambushed. Surrounded by droids and Separatist Loyalists, he'd tried to fight his way out, and would have succeeded if it hadn't been for a few sniper droids they'd set up. He'd known the shot was coming, and knew that he would be unable to defend against it and the shots from the rabble, and he'd moved so that it wouldn't hit something vital, but it would have taken his chances of getting out of the situation alive down immensely.

To his surprise, the shot had never landed. Almost at the last second, a figure holding a blue lightsaber had launched himself into the fray, deflecting the bolt. Mace had been shocked to say the least but hadn't been able to focus on the figure for the few seconds he'd been on the ground. Then the being had launched himself up with the Force, jumped off of the buildings like some sort of adrenalin driven gizkel and had taken out the sniper droids and then had vanished. Mace had been unable to find even a trace of him, and he couldn't tell what the being's alignment had been. It had caused nothing but confusion because why would anyone dark help or save a Jedi?

Looking at the being face to face (even if he couldn't see under that hood) didn't help. Now that Mace could focus on him, the Jedi noticed that he didn't look like much more than an old-fashioned bounty hunter, with a loose tunic, several leather straps criss-crossing over his torso, arms and legs all hiding who knew what, snug pants that would be easy to move in and sturdy boots. He also had what appeared to be a med-kit of some sort strapped to his thigh and a wrist-computer on a brace on his forearm, but other than that, the man didn't have anything technological about him. He also wore a sort of mini-cape that draped off of his shoulders only a few inches before abruptly cutting off. The strange (and yet practical, Mace noted grudgingly) piece of clothing also sported the hood that fell over his face, obscuring it in shadows, and a tall collar that stood stiffly, obscuring what little the hood exposed.

The outfit looked worn and while it wasn't exactly dirty, it didn't look clean either. All in all, he looked like a man used to making his own way—someone who lived in obscurity and who was content to do so.

"Do I know you?" Mace asked tersely, watching the body language closely as it was all he could really use to judge the man's intentions. In response to his question, the being sagged, suddenly taking on an agedness that somehow seemed to contradict the man's very presence. His rather muted presence…

"Have I changed so much?" the being asked, his voice contrastingly soft.

Mace's brow furrowed as he considered the question. Should he know this man?

And then it clicked.

When he spoke, he found himself unable to keep all of the shock from his voice. "Obi-wan?"

xXx

A/N: Yes, I decided to leave it there. :p

Thanks so much to Windona for all her help!

Also, remember how I said that this would be 8-9 chapters, max? Yeah, well, it evolved.


	8. Chapter 8

_I found it strangely funny that as a Jedi, I could only see the good the Order did and the goals they strived to work towards. From the outside, however, I could only see their faults. Thinking back, I know both must exist, but I have to wonder why I can only seem to see one or the other._

Mace's brow furrowed as he considered the question. Should he know this man?

And then it clicked.

When he spoke, he found himself unable to keep all of the shock from his voice. "Obi-wan?"

Slowly, as if hesitant to move at all, he reached up and pulled the hood down. The man it revealed was only vaguely recognizable as the man he'd once known. In place of a well-trimmed beard grew an unkempt scruff, which only pronounced the scars marring the left side of his face, even though they were otherwise barely visible over the high collar. His eyes, once a sparkling blue-green, now looked gray and dead. The dark circles under his eyes did nothing to help his image and the hollows in his cheeks spoke of weeks—perhaps months—of malnutrition. His skin had a pale, sallow look to it that did him no favors and his longer hair had been pulled back into a half-hazard nerf-tail that in all actuality did little to hold the once healthy hair away from his face.

They stood, staring at each other for several minutes before Mace spoke.

"I see you escaped," was all he could say. In his experience, it never did any good to point out the obvious, especially in this kind of a situation.

Obi-wan snorted. "Don't tell me you believed that drivel too."

Mace knew his frown would be particularly grim, but found little motivation to change it.

"We wanted to believe it because it was better than the alternative."

Obi-wan shook his head. "While I appreciate the benefit of the doubt, there are so many problems with that statement that I don't know where to begin."

Mace's frown deepened and he folded his arms, not bothering to put his lightsaber away. From the glance Obi-wan shot it, he hadn't forgotten or dismissed this fact either.

"What happened, Obi-wan?" he asked as gently and placatingly as he could, simultaneously forcing his wariness to the back of his mind, but not dismissing it fully. Something was horribly wrong here and his instincts had saved him too many times for him to dismiss them outright.

The other man's smile held no mirth and he slumped ever so slightly. "I became attached."

For all of his training, it took everything inside of the Jedi Master to not cringe at the answer. This was _not_ going anywhere Mace had hoped it would.

When the older man didn't speak, Obi-wan continued, sounding frazzled and defensive but resigned at the same time. "I tried not to. It was a monumental effort, really, but no matter how often I banished my feelings to the Force, they never completely left me." He brought up one hand to rub the bridge of his nose. It was such an Obi-wan-like gesture that Mace couldn't help but relax just a little.

"To whom?" he asked, wanting to keep Obi-wan talking.

Obi-wan shot him a dry glare. "It isn't obvious?"

It was. It had been for quite a while, but Obi-wan had handled it so well that everyone had turned a blind eye, believing the matter to be in hand.

Mace's lips thinned but he didn't say anything, choosing instead to allow this man to keep what dignity he still had.

"That's not why I said what I did just now, though," Obi-wan spoke softly, but the weariness had vanished from his voice and countenance, replaced instead by determination and something darker—desperation perhaps? Mace wasn't sure and he couldn't get a decent read on the emotions through the Force. The darkness seemed to cloud everything like static over a comm channel.

"Then why did you?" he finally responded.

Obi-wan frowned at him, looking—even in all of his strange clothing and for all of his youth—like a Master about to scold a Padawan. "You shouldn't treat Anakin like that because it's driving him away from the Order, and consequently away from the light."

Mace scowled a little. "He needs to learn how to handle criticism."

A flare through the Force as Obi-wan's eyes narrowed confirmed Mace's suspicions. He suddenly felt weariness himself, although he did his best to hide it.

"So you wish to drive him to the darkness then?" Obi-wan asked, his voice a cold but somehow still burning anger. Mace wanted to sigh—to give a physical outlet for his sudden exhaustion. This was nothing like the calm, controlled knight that they'd considered for the Council.

Again, the older Jedi said nothing and remained as stoic as a statue while Obi-wan stood there with his fists clenched. After a moment, the other man closed his eyes and forcibly relaxed his body before speaking again.

"The darkness wants him, Mace. If he does not stay rooted in the light, the Dark Side will claim him. I know you know this."

"How do _you_ know it?" he couldn't help but ask. He may not be one to unnecessarily state the obvious, but he also was not one to beat around the bush. He had to get a definitive answer on this before he could take it before the Council.

"With Anakin's raw power? How could it not have set its sights on him?"

Mace shook his head. "If he is the child of the prophecy then we have nothing to worry about."

"And if he isn't?" Obi-wan returned.

The Council member blinked, surprised. "You don't think he is?"

Obi-wan's lips thinned. "We cannot know for sure. Yes, he is the most powerful and one of the most talented Jedi to ever come through the Temple, but that does not mean he is the Chosen One. And even if he is, how can we possibly know how the prophecy is meant to play out? Haven't you always said that we should never take any being's allegiance for granted?"

He brought up a good point, and something about that made Mace extremely uneasy. He made a mental note to explore it during the meditation session later. He hadn't ever truly come to accept young Skywalker as a Jedi in his own right, but he'd never questioned the boy's alignment. Perhaps he should be more careful with him in the future? But then he wasn't sure just how he _could_ be. Yes, the boy was a ticking time-bomb in Mace's opinion, and it was only a matter of time before he exploded—but Mace (and indeed none of them masters as far as he knew) had ever even entertained the idea that Anakin might turn.

It became yet another point for Mace to bring to the Council's attention. And speaking of, there was something else about that general train of thought that he had to keep probing as well. "We seem to have taken your own alignment for granted," he said, unwilling to let this go without a definitive answer. Obi-wan couldn't keep dodging it forever.

Obi-wan drew himself up and back, his actions instinctively defensive. Then he deflated and looked away.

"Sadly, yes."

And those few words drove a vibroblade through Mace's heart. He made a mental note to make sure he had released it all to the Force later. He was not looking forward to the meditation session all of this would bring about. He had an awful lot to come to terms with and consider at this point in time. He closed his eyes and found himself turning his head away too, unable to look at the person who had once been a friend and close ally.

"Please, Mace," the other man pleaded. "You have to do everything you can to help Anakin…because I can't anymore. He needs people he can trust and rely on."

And something about all of this seemed awfully two-faced. Why was Obi-wan working to keep Anakin light if he himself had given into the dark? Mace had met fallen Jedi before, and they always seemed to want people to join them in the darkness. He had always chalked it up to the old adage that misery loves company. So why was Obi-wan different?

Then realization struck him, connected the pieces in his mind and painted a picture he almost kicked himself for not seeing before. It simply boiled down to the fact that Obi-wan cared for the boy that much; that the former Jedi's affection—that which he suspected had dragged the man down, in a strange sort of duplicity, currently transcended the darkness. The very idea seemed so foreign to Mace, but so obvious now that he looked and he had to wonder how they had all missed it.

Obi-wan would do anything for Anakin.

Even fall to darkness.

And also, apparently, fight the darkness off, even if his attempts seemed futile at best.

Mace scowled at the thought and began to realize just what the fallen Jedi was asking. "I won't coddle him. He needs discipline, not some corruptible form of affection." Because by Obi-wan's admittance, he wasn't sure how long that attachment he'd seemingly embraced would remain unclouded. They both knew it was only a matter of time before that too was twisted by the darkness.

And then the iciness returned to the other's eyes. "There is a difference between discipline and resentment."

Mace narrowed his own eyes in warning. "We treat him no differently than any other Jedi and we do not resent the boy."

Instead of the outburst Mace had expected, Obi-wan deflated and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he hunched beneath an invisible weight.

"The sad thing is you actually believe that."

"Obi-wan," the older man said, his voice low and hard.

The former Jedi ignored the tone and continued. "You expect so much from him and give nothing in return. You don't trust him and he knows it, so why should he live up to your expectations?"

"He hasn't earned our trust!" Mace returned a little more heatedly than he would have liked, although he still had control over his emotions and actions.

The look Obi-wan shot him could have sucked Kamino dry. "And just what would it take for him to earn it? Because he will never be the Jedi you want him to be! He has always and will always be his own man, for better or for worse. Why is that so wrong?"

Mace had to make a mental effort to not shift under the younger man's intense but calm and steady gaze. That was another thing that seemed so different about Obi-wan. Most of the other fallen Jedi Mace had studied and come across were so full of rage and hate, each wanting to drag down and drown every spark of light around them. They didn't think beyond basic plans and let their emotions get in the way of coherent, logical thought processes. So why could Obi-wan return his arguments so firmly and with such a clear head? He hadn't even been at a Master level when he'd left (approaching it, but not quite there yet), which had been why they figured Dooku had been so calm most of the time.

Still, Mace had always been one to stand by his opinion, and he was not about to back down now.

"If he cannot conform to the ways of the Jedi then perhaps it would have been better if we'd found other arrangements for him when he first came to us."

Obi-wan just stared at him coldly. His emotions fluctuated so quickly it was difficult for Mace to keep up with them, and the fact that he had to try with Obi-wan of all people was more than a little disconcerting.

"And therein lay the problem. He doesn't fit the cookie-cutter mold you set up for him and so you refuse to handle him—to think outside the box and accept him for who he is. Because he _is_ a good man, a good warrior and a good Jedi, no matter what you believe."

"This coming from one who has fallen to the Darkness?" Mace shot back.

Obi-wan's expression turned troubled but thoughtful. "Perhaps it is something that can only be seen from the outside." Then his face hardened. "Regardless, if you do not give him something to keep him rooted to the light, then the Sith will claim him. He can either save or destroy you. Those are your choices. If you choose the latter, then the fault will lie with you."

"You should know better than to threaten us," Mace said, unfolding his arms and bringing his lightsaber to bear, although he had yet to ignite it.

"It is no threat," Obi-wan stated, his features a mask of frosty stone. "The Sith we have all been searching for is sitting on Courscant in the Senate and knows my Padawan quite well."

"Your former Padawan," Mace corrected, more as a stalling tactic than anything else. He didn't know quite what to make of the information. It was something Dooku had stated, insisted upon, actually, but they had chalked that up to him sowing discord. Somehow that seemed below Obi-wan at this point, but Mace had no proof one way or the other, and he couldn't very well take his former ally's word for it.

Oblivious to Mace's thoughts, Obi-wan responded. "And yet you refuse to take responsibility for him." His words sounded simultaneously both aggressive and defensive. It took Mace a heartbeat to backtrack his mental thoughts and he managed to pull himself back to the present. This was no time to get lost in thought.

"I won't let you twist this against us," he shot back.

The expression that washed briefly over Obi-wan looked so stung and sad that Mace almost took it back. Almost. But then the cold anger returned.

"I am beginning to see why Dooku considered the Jedi to be blind."

"We're not the blind ones."

"And yet you've been complaining about how the Dark Side has clouded everything."

"That doesn't make us blind."

"Perhaps not, but it does make you afraid." And then there was a glint in the other's eyes that scared Mace more than anything else he'd said the whole conversation. That was when he ignited the lightsaber, although he continued to hold it in defense. Almost as if in a trance, Obi-wan ignored it and took a step forward, never once bringing his own weapon out.

"That's it," he said, voice somehow lighter and heavier than Mace had ever heard it, and he couldn't truly pin why he recognized the tone as such. "That's how he's doing it."

"What are you talking about?" the Korun master asked as he took in his surroundings once more. There were more than enough exits if he had to retreat, and they had enough room to duel, even if only barely.

"It's how he's controlling everything so well…he's using your fear."

"What fear?" Mace returned. "When has the Council or any of the Jedi made a decision out of fear?"

"Your fear of Anakin," Obi-wan went on as if he hadn't heard. The expression on his face seemed almost exultant, as if he'd suddenly made a connection and figured out some secret to the universe, although there was a dark defensiveness that never left his eyes.

"We do not fear the boy," Mace insisted.

"Your fear of the future…"

This was getting frustrating. He never had liked being ignored.

"Your fear of the Sith—of the Dark Side in general—"

"Fear and avoidance are not the same thing," the council member defended.

Obi-wan took another step forward, his eyes clearing and focusing on Mace. What he saw there made his heart skip a beat. The lifelessness had faded and although his eyes were still the gray-blue, Mace could swear he saw a yellow tint in there. His lips had also gained a sort of elated, almost intoxicated smile.

"No, they are not, but one is born of the other."

"Avoiding a situation does not mean we fear it." And why did he have to try so hard to keep his voice steady? _He_ was speaking the truth, not Obi-wan!

"True. But avoidance is most often born of fear—and if it is not, it breeds fear." He glanced away for a moment and Mace found he could breathe more easily. "How could we have missed this? Have the Jedi grown so complacent that they cannot see their own fear?"

And somehow that line seemed to bring the tension that had risen in the room plummeting down to manageable levels again.

"You said we," Mace couldn't help but point out, lowering his blade ever so slightly.

Obi-wan blinked and glanced up at him again. "Pardon?"

"Before, you said 'you', as if you don't consider yourself a Jedi anymore, but just barely you said 'we' as if you do."

And the sadness returned, smothering the intensely frightening spark in the other's demeanor. "Old habits die hard, apparently," he muttered.

Then, for the first time in quite a while, Mace decided to take a chance on someone. He debated it, and the logical part of his mind screamed at him to not do what he was considering, but a part of him knew that while logic might help in this instance, a show of faith would do far more than anything else.

So he deactivated his lightsaber. Instead of continuing to advance, Obi-wan took a step backwards, looking down at Mace's lightsaber and then back up at his face in confusion. Part of that expression plainly told Mace that Obi-wan thought the Council Member had lost his mental facilities.

"Obi-wan," he said slowly, "come back with me. Let us help you."

This time, the expression the other man shot him looked so conflicted Mace didn't know what to think. He definitely saw longing there, but also sadness and resignation and was that anger? Indignity? Resentment? Whatever the expression, it was so intense it took Mace back.

"I can't, Mace."

The older man frowned. That made about as much sense as the rest of the conversation had—which is to say, almost none. It was obvious at least a part of Obi-wan had wanted to take him up on the offer, so why…?

He decided to ask. "Why not?"

Obi-wan looked down at his right hand, opening it and closing it slowly, as if he were trying to grasp at something he couldn't quite reach.

"There are things I have to do," he said.

"What things?"

To that, Obi-wan shook his head and looked up at Mace again. The lifelessness had returned. The older man wasn't sure which he preferred, the deadness or the intensity that bordered on insanity.

"I can't sit by and watch him destroy everything, Mace. It's the only instance that could ever be worse than this."

Mace let out a breath of his own and shook his head. Somehow, he really didn't want to say what he knew he had to say next.

"Obi-wan, I can't let you go. You know that."

The smirk the other man shot him was nothing but pure Obi-wan, and it reminded him so strongly of the Jedi the man used to be that the Council Member almost chalked the recent conversation up to a bad dream.

"You won't have to. Beware of the Chancellor. He is more than what he seems."

And with that he was gone. Blinking, Mace darted after him, chasing him out into the streets, but Obi-wan had somehow gotten the jump on him and was no where to be seen. Reaching out with the Force, he could not find a trace of the man's signature at all. He even went so far as to jump to the roof of the building and do a quick search of the surrounding area, but to no avail.

Mace sighed. What had the man meant by that? The Chancellor was more than what he seemed? How could that be? He couldn't be hiding _that _much from the Jedi…could he? As his mind continued to look into that thought and pick it apart in his mind, he turned to finish his patrol and report this encounter to the planetary police. Perhaps they could capture Obi-wan as he tried to get off planet.

Mace knew that he would also have to catch up to Skywalker. Hopefully the boy hadn't gotten into more trouble. That thought seemed far less annoying than it had before, probably because of how insignificant Mace's petty thoughts looked next to everything that had just been dropped into his lap. He couldn't help but be well aware that he had to bring his recent, unwelcome discoveries before the Council.

And only the Council. This was not Senate business now that Obi-wan was no longer a General in the army, so they would not take it before the Chancellor. They couldn't risk the Sith getting a hold of this, and if there was even the smallest possibility that Obi-wan was right…

The Council meeting that would result from this would probably be the only thing more draining than his upcoming personal meditation session.

xXx

It really wasn't that difficult to get away from Mace. All he really had to do was find a hiding place and then concentrate on suppressing his Force signature. Obi-wan had no doubt that Master Yoda could have found him, and maybe a handful of other Jedi he could think of off the top of his mind, but Mace was still at a level where, as good as he was, he could still be fooled if one knew how to go about it.

He waited for several minutes, until the Jedi Master's own signature had faded, before he crawled out of the small cubby-hole in the side of the old building. It was practically invisible from the outside and while it had its share of unpleasant creatures and decades of build up, it had served its purpose of hiding him rather well.

Brushing himself off, he made a mental note to take a shower as soon as possible, and maybe pick up a change of clothing. He was getting tired of just washing these and having nothing else but his old Jedi Robes to put on.

He paused and looked around the empty street before turning to go back into the building he'd only just left not fifteen minutes previously. Before he left the planet, he had something he needed to address.

He came into the room he'd confronted Mace in and paused, folding his arms as he listened to the Force currents. Yes, it was subtle, but he had not been mistaken. His pride suddenly shot up several notches. Anakin had grown.

"You can come out now," he said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. Although part of him felt indignant that he and Mace had been overheard, most of him still felt that growing bubble of pride. Anakin had been there for who knew how long and Mace hadn't sensed it at all. If Obi-wan didn't still have a vague connection to the boy, he wouldn't have known himself.

A ventilation grate near the ceiling suddenly crashed to the ground and Obi-wan watched calmly as Anakin dropped out of it, landing in a ready crouch, even if he looked about as conflicted as Obi-wan had expected.

One thing he could see in his Padawan's eyes was betrayal, and suddenly it became extremely hard to breathe. He made sure that he didn't show it, but he could also feel his cheeks flush ever so slightly with embarrassment and shame. He thought he'd been ready to face Anakin, but at that moment he really just wanted to die and melt into the ground because Anakin shouldn't ever look at him like that—and hadn't that been why he couldn't actually say anything back when he'd woken up on Haadrian?

It took what felt like an eternity to get his emotions back in check enough that he could speak clearly.

"How much of that did you overhear?"

"Enough."

Well, this would be fun. He wondered when he'd started to sound so sarcastic even to himself. He stood a little too rigidly as fear of what his Padawan—his son and brother and best friend—would do now keeping him firmly in place. He could feel his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand, even through the gloves he wore. And then the familiarity of fear beginning to melt into that ever oppressing and yet somehow freeing anger.

NO! He would not let himself act harshly towards Anakin, because he was more afraid of what he could do—what he _would_ do—to the younger man if he allowed his temper to get away from him. He could have sworn the Force seemed _disappointed_ that he had reigned in his anger, almost nudging at him with that ever tempting allure of power…

"I know what you're thinking," Obi-wan said neutrally, trying to distract himself from his previous train of thought, although his fists clenched almost as hard at the new one his mind had so suddenly latched onto.

"Really?" Anakin asked skeptically, his hand hovering just above his lightsaber.

"Yes. You're thinking 'he was right'."

That took the boy of guard. "Who?" Anakin asked warily, his defensiveness kicking up a notch but doing nothing to hide his confusion. Oh, he really was too easy to read.

"The Chancellor."

At that, the young Jedi's eyes grew wide.

"H-how did you know?"

Obi-wan sighed. Sometimes he hated being right. "Because that's what I would have done in his shoes."

Anakin blinked owlishly at him. "In…his shoes?"

The older man watched his former apprentice for several seconds, scrutinizing him. Then he shook his head.

"You're not ready to hear it. You may want to avoid talking to him in the future, though. The Sith Lord can hear everything you say to him."

At least that had the desired result. Anakin paled. "You mean, he has the office bugged?"

Obi-wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "From a certain point of view," he said with a shrug. They sat there in a thick silence for several minutes before the former Jedi turned to walk out. This was not going well, and he wasn't sure how much more pressure and reminders of the past his psyche could take before it snapped. It was a minor miracle that it hadn't already.

"You should return to your duties," he said softly

"M-master!" Anakin stuttered out. "Wait!"

And for the life of him, Obi-wan couldn't stop himself from doing as the boy had asked.

"I'm not your master anymore, Anakin," he said. Then he chuckled mirthlessly as a thought occurred to him. "Now you can look up to real Jedi without me getting in the way."

"Not likely," Anakin returned, seeming to have gathered his wits. "You said it yourself: they don't trust me and they fear me."

Obi-wan looked over his shoulder at Anakin. "You are impulsive, reckless and you rely on your heart over your head. You go against everything they have ever been taught to believe and they don't know how to treat you because of it." He smiled sadly. "Not to mention you're just as afraid of them as they are of you."

Predictably, Anakin bristled. "I'm not afraid of them!"

"Oh?" Obi-wan inquired, turning to face him and folding his arms derisively. "What do you want more than anything else in the universe, Anakin?"

The question seemed to take him off guard again, and that bothered Obi-wan. It suggested a recent change in some status quos…

"To be a Jedi, of course," Anakin finally responded, thankfully with the answer the older man had expected. He still made a mental note to study that out later.

"And who has power over that decision?"

This time Anakin didn't answer, obviously not happy about walking into the verbal trap Obi-wan had (rather blatantly in his opinion) set up for him.

"You see?" Obi-wan said, waving a hand in invitation. "They hold power over your future, and as you feel you cannot trust them, that scares you."

"I'm not afraid of them," Anakin said stubbornly.

Obi-wan felt his lips thin. "Anakin, it isn't _wrong_ to be afraid of them, but even if you do not desire to be afraid, the sooner you admit to yourself that you are, the sooner you can overcome it."

"Why should I listen to a man who gave into his fears?" Anakin shot back defensively.

Obi-wan visibly recoiled as that shot through his heart. He hadn't expected Anakin to hurt him that badly, even in anger. Then again, he himself had done some pretty despicable things out of anger alone recently.

He felt the darkness well inside of him, encouraging him to fight back, but he held himself in check. This was Anakin. The best thing he could do right now was retreat before he said something he regretted.

"Goodbye, Anakin," he said and turned again.

"Master, wait! I'm sorry…I didn't mean—"

"Then maybe you should think before you speak for once in your life!" Well, so much for not regretting what he said.

He glanced back again to see Anakin drawing into himself and sighed as he mentally kicked himself. "You have my apologies as well, Anakin," he finally forced himself to say. He didn't really feel it, but he couldn't leave it like that. "It is no excuse, but I am not exactly at my best right now. What patience I used to have has been greatly reduced and I tend to be far more impulsive and I regret far less than I should."

He turned towards his former Padawan once again, opening his arms and holding the palms of his hands forward in an open gesture. "Take a good look, Anakin. This is what the Dark Side does to you. It takes every scrap of goodness you ever had and twists it. Every good memory, every good intention, every drop of love. You may not be able to imagine it now, but it takes everything that is you away—all in exchange for power.

"I know power appeals to you. You seem to think that because you are powerful, you deserve more. You deserve better ranks or more leeway. Being a Jedi is not about power, Anakin. It never has been, and as long as you continue to focus on power alone, you will never be the Jedi you could be."

Anakin shuffled his feet nervously. The gesture made him look more like the 9-year-old that had come to the temple all those years ago instead of the man he had become. "You don't think I can ever be a Jedi anyway."

And this time, Obi-wan couldn't help but roll his eyes. "No, I said you will be an unconventional Jedi that will never fit the mold as it is right now. I never even implied that you should do otherwise. I still think you can be the best Jedi the universe has ever seen."

Anakin looked up uncertainly at his former Master and Obi-wan suddenly became aware of how easy it would be to tear the boy down right then and there. If Palpatine saw this every time Anakin went into his office…he shoved the thought aside before it could summon any more anger. He would not lose control around Anakin. Not now, not ever. He'd rather die.

"You do?"

There was a tone in the other's voice that Obi-wan did _not_ like.

"Do you honestly think I could have said that if I didn't mean it?" Obi-wan asked, his tone casual but eyes studying the boy again.

"I guess not."

Sometimes he could swear his Padawan took 'frustration' to a whole new level.

And he really couldn't deal with that right now. "You really should go, Anakin," he said and made to leave for the third time.

"Master," he said again.

Obi-wan suppressed a sigh. "What is it now, Anakin? And please stop calling me 'master'."

Anakin looked at his feet. "I…uh…" he glanced at Obi-wan and then looked away again.

"Any day, now, Anakin."

The impatience in his voice was all too clear to him, and he was sure Anakin caught it too. Still, the boy didn't back down. It was something he'd always admired in his Padawan…former Padawan.

"H…have you joined the Sith?"

Obi-wan had seen that one coming. Actually, he was surprised that it had taken Anakin this long to ask.

"No. I'll admit I've turned from the light, but I will not join that man."

Anakin bit his lip as his brow furrowed. "You sound like you know who he is."

Obi-wan couldn't help his darkening expression. "I have my suspicions."

"Who?"

This time Obi-wan's smile seemed fond, almost reproving. "I've given you all the clues, Anakin. You'll have to figure that one out on your own."

Again a pregnant pause fell between them as the younger boy thought over that. Then Anakin seemed to gather his courage.

"Why won't you come back?" the boy blurted. "I'll be there to help you. I'm sure you can come back if we could just—"

"No," Obi-wan said abruptly, suddenly feeling old beyond his years. "I can't."

Anakin paused, looking confused. "Why not?" he sounded so unlike the Anakin Obi-wan had always known; unsure and wary and disbelieving…

Obi-wan looked away again, feeling the shame wash over him, no matter how he tried to keep it back. "Do you honestly think I want to stay like this? If I could return to the light again I would do so in a heart beat.

"Then why—"

"I _can't_, Anakin. I've tried," Obi-wan cut in. He couldn't bear hearing that question come from the person he cared most for. "I've never _stopped_ trying but only the Dark Side answers me. The light…wants nothing to do with me anymore."

And suddenly he felt so vulnerable and he hated it. His mind screamed at him to retreat, but he couldn't seem to make his feet move.

"But…" Anakin started before fading off, genuinely confused. Obi-wan knew what he was trying to ask.

"You know the teachings, Anakin. Once you start down the dark path, it will forever dominate your destiny. It entraps you and enslaves you and takes away any choice you thought you ever had. There is no going back for me. I chose this, Anakin. It may have been just a moment, and I may have felt that I had no other choice, but I made a conscious decision. This…this is my fate now."

"But, that doesn't make sense," Anakin said, still puzzled.

"Why doesn't it make sense?" Obi-wan asked, not liking how tight and weary his voice sounded.

"Because," the Padawan said, still seeming to be lost in thought, "when I kil..." he suddenly cut off and his eyes widened as if he just realized what he had been about to say.

Obi-wan felt his blood turn to ice and he turned a hardened gaze on the younger man. "When you what?" he asked, more than a little warning in his tone.

It was Anakin's turn to look away in shame. "Nothing, Master."

"Oh no, you don't," Obi-wan shot, unable to keep the ever growing anger from his voice. "Who did you kill?"

Anakin rarely acted ashamed, and usually when he did…yes, there was the anger. Obi-wan's stomach suddenly sank. He was seeing in Anakin what he went through multiple times a day recently.

"You didn't tell me any of this! You just ran off and left everything behind! You didn't tell me where you went or what happened and I had to find out everything by overhearing you arguing with Mace Windu! You won't even tell me what happened to turn you and you expect me to tell you anything?!" Anakin growled.

Obi-wan wanted to rush over and shake the boy until he saw sense, and he wanted to strangle him until he confessed everything…and he couldn't help but realize yet again just how different that was from what he used to be. Obi-wan had always been a 'live and let live' kind of person. He hated seeing people in pain and always did everything he could to help, but if they refused his offers, he never pushed further. Somehow, though—he suspected it was due to his recent insights into anger and the Dark Side—he knew that this was not a time to back away.

So he forced himself to remain calm and think rationally. Anakin always had learned by example. If he saw someone else do it, he would almost always be able to copy and remember whatever he was learning. Oh, he did _not_ like where this was going.

"You have a point," Obi-wan said finally, having to pour every ounce of self restraint into not saying it through clenched teeth. "Very well, I will tell you what happened and why I chose this if you tell me about what happened on Tatooine."

It wasn't his usual method of speaking to Anakin—treating him like an adult he didn't act like didn't strike Obi-wan as a wise plan, but then his normal methods didn't often work either. Not anymore. Seeing his former Padawan as he did now, he wasn't sure they ever had.

Anakin started defensively at Obi-wan's words. "How did you know it was on Tatooine?"

Obi-wan scoffed disdainfully. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice how you changed after that mission?"

"Then why didn't you ever say anything?"

The former Jedi shook his head as the weariness (and bitterness) returned. "I wanted you to come to me. I wanted you to trust me. I wanted you to come to me on your own, and I was naïve enough to think that you actually would."

Anakin had the good grace to look abashed. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he glanced up at his master uncertainly.

"You promise you'll tell?"

Obi-wan wanted to roll his eyes again. There had to be a serious developmental problem somewhere if his Padawan had such problems with growing up. "Yes, Anakin. I promise."

Again, Anakin frowned. "You go first."

Obi-wan's stomach clenched again but he nodded firmly and thought about what he could possibly say. He did not want to go back and relive the experience that had led to his fall. He had spent weeks repressing the memories and he was afraid of how angry they would make him. But he'd promised Anakin, and somehow he knew that this would be a shattering point (for good or bad he could not say) for the younger man just as much as it would be for him. So, finally, he just opened his mouth and began to speak.

"I'd had enough," he said. "She was torturing you, she had already tortured me…and I couldn't take it anymore." And here he was showing his weakness to his Padawan, and it went against every single instinct he had. Padawans needed to see their teachers as strong people they should look up to…but then, he wasn't a Jedi anymore, and Anakin needed to know that too. He hadn't been joking when he'd told Anakin that he needed to find another role-model, one who was actually worthy of his respect.

"I had to save us…so I stopped fighting it," he went on, feeling that well of shame rise inside of him and begin to overflow again. "I wasn't strong enough." And what was he supposed to say after that? He thought for a moment, but nothing came to mind, so he continued with the story.

"Once I let the darkness in, I was able to free us and took Ventress by surprise. I was able to obtain one of her lightsabers and killed her."

Anakin looked at him skeptically. "Okay, that makes some sense. But there's no way you could have dueled her in the condition you were in," he said, folding his arms. "There's something you're not telling me."

Obi-wan clenched his jaw. It was getting increasingly more difficult to control his temper. But he had promised…kriff it. And since when did he even think such uncouth thoughts? Perhaps he'd been hanging around riff-raff for too long.

Reluctantly, he expounded. "She went to attack you and I managed to take her by surprise. I don't think she realized my physical limitations didn't impede my connection to the Force. I…used it to choke her," he managed to say, although he was sure Anakin heard the suppressed anger and hatred in his voice.

"You Force-choked her?" Anakin asked, the expression of surprised disbelief back on his face.

"I believe that is what I just said," Obi-wan growled, unconsciously clenching his fist and then continued. He really just wanted to get this over with. "After that, I enlisted one of the other prisoners to help me carry you to the ship."

Anakin frowned again, although the stunned expression hadn't quite left his face. "Where did they go?"

"They stayed on the planet," Obi-wan said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't kill them?"

Obi-wan looked at Anakin incredulously. "Of course not, Anakin. I would never kill an innocent in cold blood. Even now I can claim that I have not done so."

"What about the clone trooper you were captured with, the one you told me about when we were in that cell?"

The former Jedi blinked at the younger man. He'd completely and utterly forgotten about the arc trooper that had been taken with him. Where was the man now? Still stuck in Ventress' dungeons somewhere? Dead?

The small fountain of overflowing guilt had turned into a veritable waterfall with the last few revelations. It seemed unstoppable and the whole analogy fit so well with how he so often felt as if he were drowning.

"I don't know."

Anakin frowned, but before he could say anything, Obi-wan decided to get his own questions answered. "I told you," he said tersely, "now tell me, who did you kill?"

Not that Anakin hadn't ever killed anyone before, although it had always been in self defense as far as Obi-wan knew.

When Anakin spoke next, his voice was low and slurred. Obi-wan could practically feel the shame through the Force, and it didn't help his own in the slightest.

"When I went after my mom," he said. "The Sand People had her and I caught up to them. She was still alive." Obi-wan knew this. He'd managed to get that much out of Anakin at least. Almost everything else Anakin told him was new. "She…she died in my arms. I was right there and I couldn't do anything…and…"

He faded off, not saying anything more.

"And?" Obi-wan prompted.

Anakin looked up at Obi-wan, his cheeks burning in shame. "And I killed them all," he said.

It was Obi-wan's turn to blink in shock. "Y-you what?" the former Jedi asked weakly.

The expression on Anakin's face contorted in anger. "I killed them all," he said, more firm this time. "Down to the very last child."

And that made Obi-wan very sick.

"Oh, Anakin…" he said, feeling his own heart sink. If Anakin had already gone that far…what kind of a teacher was he? Maybe Qui-gon's teachings were corrupt after all if this was the result. Dooku had taught Qui-gon…maybe they were all fated to be corrupted from the very beginning. Perhaps Qui-gon had just been lucky enough to die before he fell…

And he instantly felt regret for even thinking that.

"I don't regret it," Anakin said, still angry as he stood in front of his former master, hands clenched at his sides.

Obi-wan could only shake his head. "I've taught you well," he muttered, half to himself, half to Anakin.

Anakin's frown gained just a touch of confusion. "What?"

"You lie to yourself very well," Obi-wan said, leaning back against the door frame. "That wasn't something you were supposed to learn from me. You have my apologies. "

"I'm not lying to myself!" Anakin insisted, the anger back in full force.

Obi-wan didn't let it visibly faze him, although he couldn't stop his voice from cooling several degrees. "If you didn't regret it, you wouldn't be angry."

"_They killed my mother!_" the younger man yelled. "Why shouldn't I be angry?"

"Who are you angrier at?" Obi-wan asked, surprised he wasn't getting more upset himself. He just felt so…tired. Not just his body, but his soul and his mind and it went so deep that it felt as if it had always been a part of him but he had only just realized. He could force himself on through the tiredness. That was something he'd been doing for decades. "Them or yourself?" he went on.

"I don't understand," Anakin said through clenched teeth.

Obi-wan continued to voice his thoughts, blaming his bluntness on his tiredness and Anakin's influence and the Dark Side dancing in glee at Anakin's anger. "You couldn't save your mother, and you blame yourself. Don't deny it."

Anakin closed his mouth with a clop.

"So who are you more angry at?"

Obi-wan just watched as Anakin's teeth ground for a few moments.

"You!" Anakin finally shouted, taking Obi-wan by surprise. A horrible, gut-wrenching feeling began to grow in him. "I told you and you just said that dreams pass! If I'd left when I first had the visions I could have saved her!"

Obi-wan felt sick. Anakin blamed him…and there was some validation to his claim. If he'd been a little more understanding…but then, how was he to know? How could he have possibly known? And who was Anakin to blame him? It wasn't his fault!

The former Jedi narrowed his eyes in his former Apprentice's direction.

"Then you are a fool." He didn't know why he said it. He didn't think he would ever say something so hurtful and blunt, but somehow those words pushed themselves to the front of his mind, almost out of his mouth.

The confused hurt on his Padawan's face made him rethink the words though. They had been rather cruel. Perhaps he should at least soften the blow.

"We all do foolish things," he said. "But I do think you're angrier at yourself."

"I'm not!" Anakin insisted, although he seemed rather off balance.

Obi-wan shook his head again, feeling the anger dissipate somewhat. "You really are too much like me."

And there Anakin looked even more confused. "What?"

"You feel and care so deeply and can only handle so much." He closed his eyes, wishing with all of his heart that he could touch the light again. That serenity would be so utterly welcome at this point. "I don't want to see you break…like I did."

Before all of this, Obi-wan would have been relieved to see Anakin think about that. Now he just watched with a weariness that bordered on apathy as the boy pondered these words, his anger still there but seeming to leak away before Obi-wan's eyes.

When Anakin didn't answer for a few minutes, Obi-wan continued, returning to the matter at hand. "And so you murdered every single man, woman and child in that clan, correct?" The way Anakin looked away from him gave him his answer. "But if you really did not feel badly about it, you would have come to me." His next words came out very quiet and small. "You still could have."

"I would have been kicked out of the Order," Anakin protested.

"So you _are_ afraid of the Council?" Obi-wan asked, bringing his previous point back into play, but he went on before Anakin could say anything in response. "Anakin, they wouldn't have expelled you for that if you were truly repentant and vowed never to use the Dark Side again."

"They wouldn't?" The boy looked so surprised.

Obi-wan shook his head. "Do you think you're the only Jedi who has ever given into their dark impulses in the heat of the moment? They wouldn't have gone easy on you, but they wouldn't have expelled you unless they had suspicions that you would continue to kill without remorse."

The boy's expression fell to a dry skepticism. "If that's true why aren't you going back?"

Obi-wan looked down at his hand. "Because I can only use the Dark Side now."

"But that makes no sense! I had no problem going back!"

"Didn't you?" Obi-wan asked. Anakin looked taken aback and he paused, staring at Obi-wan with wide eyes. It took him a few minutes to answer.

"I can still use the Force normally."

Obi-wan chuckled mirthlessly. "You're the Chosen One."

Anakin frowned. "I thought you didn't believe that."

Oh, he could definitely feel a headache coming on. "No, Anakin, I was making a point to Mace., nothing more. I wanted to make sure he stopped treating you like you're a bomb about to go off. I do believe you're the Chosen One."

The boy's frown deepened. "Then what's that got to do with it?"

"Of course you would be able to do things normal Jedi can't," Obi-wan said in an exasperated voice, but then his tone softened. "You're stronger than me, Anakin. You can go back…I can't."

"But Master—"

"Do you regret it, Anakin?" Obi-wan cut in, suddenly desperate to know. "Do you regret killing them? I know you said you didn't, but answer me one more time…please."

Anakin blinked, looking extremely uncomfortable. "They killed my mother…"

"That's not what I asked, Anakin."

"Why should I regret it?"

Obi-wan looked at him hard. "Even the children? Even the innocents?"

He shuffled uneasily, but then he seemed to steel himself and he looked up at Obi-wan.

"No, I don't."

And suddenly everything Obi-wan had fought for seemed so worthless. All of it had been for naught because even if Anakin hadn't already fallen, he was so close he may as well have. "Then which one of us is darker?" he asked quietly.

He ignored the pained look on his Padawan's face.

"You may be able to use the Force like a Jedi, but there are lines I have not crossed that you have." He seemed to lose himself at that and he stared into space. "The difference is you can still return…" He focused on Anakin again. "You have a precious chance that people like me will never have. Don't waste it or you will lose everything and everyone you have ever held dear; the Jedi, your freedom…and Padmé."

Anakin winced. "You knew about that too?" he asked.

Obi-wan repressed a groan. "No, I suspected. You just confirmed it."

"Oh."

The former Jedi looked away from his Padawan in disappointment, but then his resolve hardened. Yes a lot of the fault for everything that had happened lay with him, and a good deal more fell with his Padawan, but all of it really stemmed back to Sidious.

"I have less time than I thought," he muttered, half to himself, half to Anakin. "If he's already gotten to you like that…I can't wait to figure everything out on my own. I have to find a mentor somehow…."

"Wait, what?" Anakin asked.

Obi-wan drew himself out of his thoughts and looked at his Padawan one last time. "Anakin, never forget what has happened to me and ask yourself if more power is worth Padmé's life, or the lives of all of the Jedi at the Temple, because that is what it will cost. What you felt after Tatooine…it will be several times worse if you follow in my footsteps. Don't listen to anything he says."

"Wait, who says?" Anakin almost shouted, his voice shrill.

"The Sith."

"But I don't know who the Sith is," the other said in exasperation.

Obi-wan looked grimly at his former Padawan. "Yes, you do."

And with that, he was gone, running out of the door and back to his little cubby hole before Anakin could even reach the door. His plans had changed. He had to find some way to challenge Palpatine—had to take him out before he could do much more damage to Anakin. He couldn't do that on his own…but he had no idea where he could look for any sort of guidance.

He kept his Force signature suppressed as Anakin rushed around the area, looking for him. Obi-wan briefly wondered what the boy thought he would do if he found his former Master, but then turned his thoughts back to the problem that had just come up.

So what would he have to do to take out Palpatine? He'd have to infiltrate the Senate and get close to the man, but he knew he couldn't hide himself from the Sith. Yes he could suppress his Force signature, but not for long. He would slip up eventually, and if he was to go up against Sidious in his chosen arena, he couldn't afford to be anything but utterly perfect in his acting abilities. He'd also have to be stronger. He couldn't afford to be wishy-washy anymore. No more dabbling or dallying. He had to learn to use the tools at his command.

He'd shied away from his status as a dark-sider up until this point, but doing so for any longer would only help Sidious. So he would stop flinching whenever the cold answered his call, or whenever the wild energy almost carried him away. As he'd told Anakin, that was his life now.

He'd have to—

And then a vision came to him, intense and real and so blatant it left him gasping. It was a planet. One he'd never visited but one that every Jedi knew to avoid if at all possible. Red and swirling, it gave off a feeling that seemed both foreboding and welcoming. It called to him.

Opening his eyes, Obi-wan continued to gasp for air as the cold surrounded him. He knew the planet—he knew where the Force was leading him.

"Dathomir," he whispered.

xXx

Long chapter, but I felt it was rather necessary. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.

Okay, so it looks like my beta reader for my other story, Dangers of Foresight, is not going to be able to continue to beta. You have no idea how much I absolutely HATE letting her go, but she has a life and it has decided to take all of her time. As such, I'm going to need a new beta, so I was wondering if anyone would be interested? Note, I need someone who I can bounce ideas off of as well as someone who can beta for grammar and flow (and makes sure that I don't put something in that contradicts something else, etc). Send me a note if you're interested.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: *Evil grin here* Definitely one of my favorite chapters...

xXx

_I'd like to say that my ability to think while touching the darkness is what stopped me from becoming the savage beasts that many of the Sith I knew of had been. I fear, though, that in reality, it has just made me into something worse._

Dathomir was an outer-rim planet that had history of some technological advancement, but the factions that lived on the forested planet fought each other so often that they didn't have the unity to even form a basic planetary defense, let alone enough of a united face to even get entrance into the Republic. Even though it was considered part of Republic space, it was not itself represented in the Senate.

So there it sat, forgotten by all but the Force-users, and even the Jedi only mentioned it briefly in their teachings. It was a planet steeped in the Dark side. Of the tribes on the planet, the Nightsisters—the Dark-Side users—were the most prominent presence and were not to be taken lightly.

Obi-wan stared at the planet through the view screen of his ship, the_ Refracted Edge_. He could feel them—the Force-sensitive on the planet—and knew they could sense him as well. Well, someone could. They seemed to prod at his presence curiously every now and then. He'd been sitting in his small, freighter-like vessel above the planet for almost half a day now. He'd come here to follow up on a vision, but he honestly didn't know why. He had no clue what some half-trained dark savages could do for him.

But then there was that presence; strong and forceful and in control of themselves…. Were they why Obi-wan was here? Could they help him? Somehow he doubted it. In his experience those who followed the dark path didn't help others, even others who also lingered in the dark.

Still, the Force had led him here for a reason, and so he sighed, checked his supplies and precautions for the umpteenth time and finally nudged his ship into the atmosphere. He wouldn't get any answers sitting up here.

xXx

He knew he wouldn't have to go far from his ship. He'd purposefully landed fairly close to where he could feel the presence emanating from. It certainly hadn't made any sort of move to hide from him, and he couldn't help but feel underestimated. Either that, or he was underestimating them…and he really hoped that wasn't the case.

Leaving the _Refracted Edge_ wasn't something he felt was wise, but after a day and a half of waiting and nothing coming to him, he finally realized that, again, he'd have to take a few risks to hopefully get a few answers. The planet itself made him uneasy in a way and so he made sure to take more than just his lightsaber. A few thermal detonators and some other similar explosives along with rations that could last him for a week if he stretched them made him feel much better.

As he clipped his last weapon—his lightsaber—onto his belt, he paused and studied it for a moment. Lately he'd been feeling like his weapon wasn't…well, his anymore. The crystal inside no longer resonated with him (a fact he'd been steadily ignoring for several weeks now) and the rest of the design had begun to feel old, mundane and inadequate. He'd have to construct a new one soon.

Filing that thought away for later contemplation he made sure he had everything he would need on him and then left the ship.

He blamed not being able to sense the people that surrounded him not a click later on the fact that there was so much ambient energy on the planet that pin-pointing anything except that large presence would have been extremely difficult. He wasn't even sure he could locate the presence unless it wanted him to. It felt too controlled for that.

He'd been keeping an eye on the people surrounding him for about ten minutes when one of them jumped from the trees to land in front of him. Immediately he had his lightsaber in hand but didn't move to attack. The being in front of him was obviously a woman and she carried an energy bow and arrow that glowed purple in the dim lighting of the forest. That would be, he realized, somewhat effective against his lightsaber, which was meant to take blaster bolts. He still had little doubt that it would be much of a threat, but these would undoubtedly pack a punch and he wondered if that was why they hadn't 'upgraded' to blasters as it were. Did they learn their lesson from confronting Jedi in the past? Or were there other reasons?

"Intruder," she whispered in a harsh, grating tone, "prepare to die!"

Obi-wan flipped his lightsaber on and reached for the Force. Just before the woman would let her bow go, though, a voice called out.

"STOP!"

And Obi-wan knew the voice belonged to the person he'd been sensing.

He could not describe the woman who walked calmly out of the trees as anything approaching pretty or even mundane. Her face had been tattooed in bold black and white shapes, giving off the illusion of a skull all only accentuated by the red cloth draped over her head. Still, the woman was nothing if not regal…in a very back-water, tribe-leader type fashion. Her presence leaked out of her in controlled waves and the robes she wore floated through the air with them, as if she somehow both hovered under water and simultaneously stood before them.

This, Obi-wan realized, was not someone to cross lightly.

"Why have you come here, Jedi?" she asked. When she spoke, Obi-wan could swear he heard more than one voice. At least one other, very deep tone seemed to speak with her—or through her, Obi-wan realized. He suspected that she somehow gave voice to the darkness that saturated the area.

"I am no Jedi," he said bitterly.

The tribe leader scrutinized him for several minutes before stepping forward gracefully. "Perhaps not, but you would be wise to answer my question."

Obi-wan clenched his teeth as he continued to stand with his back straight, lightsaber still out and humming at his side. "I have been led here," he said finally. "I do not know why."

"Nor do I," the woman mused thoughtfully, continuing to scrutinize the man before her. Then her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, although she never lost her mildly amused tone. "But you do seek power."

The former Jedi bristled, but he had enough control to not simply deny it. "You think so?"

The woman raised an eyebrow (or what should be an eyebrow, he wasn't quite sure) at him. "You deny that you seek for a way to use and control the darkness?"

This time he didn't answer, instead glaring up at the perceptive woman with thinned lips. She didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

"You do not seek a mate or an apprentice, you do not come with a misguided offering of peace, but neither are you here to hunt us. You have come here because you have nowhere else to go." Okay, her perceptive streak was starting to get frustrating. "You have your own reasons, but you seek control…as you always have."

And that made no sense at all whatsoever. He had not always sought control, thank you very much.

As if in response to his thoughts, she shrugged. "Whatever the reason for your presence here, we cannot train a male of any species."

"I assure you, I didn't come here to—"

"Then why did you come?"

Somehow she had moved so quickly he almost couldn't follow and was now standing far too close, scrutinizing him with her strange, dark eyes that only made the whites of them seem to glow.

"I have yet to figure that out," he responded, refusing to give into the anger and defense that bubbled below the surface of his calm exterior.

The woman laughed then, a loud, creepy laugh that seemed to reverberate around the clearing. The other women echoed it with their own, high-pitched laughter. Obi-wan's grip on his lightsaber tightened.

"You are very good at lying to yourself, I see," the tribe leader said as she finally backed up and began pacing casually around the circle of women. Obi-wan grit his teeth but said nothing. He knew that already. He didn't need her to point it out _again._

"It is a pity," the woman said, still pacing slowly and casually through the dense undergrowth. "You are powerful and would be quite the asset. Perhaps…" she faded off, obviously thinking.

"Beejot," she said suddenly. One of the archers stepped forward. She had a veil covering her face and head, although the rest of her outfit did little to hide her body.

"Mother Talzin," she said reverently, bowing her head.

"Inform the Nightbrothers that we have a new member for them."

Obi-wan decided this had gone on long enough. "I'm afraid I must decline your offer," he broke in, forcing a smile onto his face and not caring how fake or challenging it looked. "I have heard of your tribes of Nightbrothers and I have no wish to become a slave to your whims."

The woman, Mother Talzin, had been circling behind him, although he had yet to let her out of his sight. She paused and watched him for a few moments.

"No, you would not do well as a slave," she finally said, managing to surprise Obi-wan who had been positive he would have to somehow fight his way out of this one. "While your genetics could add to ours, and it would certainly be enjoyable to break you again…" Obi-wan sucked in a silent breath as the anger surged through him. How could she know? And his shame at giving in and allowing himself to be broken by that Sith Witch stabbed at him yet again. Would he never be rid of it? Somehow he doubted it.

"Oh, yes," Mother Talzin hissed in what he could only assume was pleasure. It disgusted him. "Oh, it would be beautiful…but I sense your role is larger than that."

"What do you mean?" Obi-wan asked, annoyed at the anger so visible in his voice.

The woman's eyes drooped to half closed and her eyes rolled up. When she spoke again, the deep undertone that had been present before nearly overwhelmed her own, natural tones.

"You are the key to fate. Your actions will decide whether light or darkness remains. You will push the chosen to choose." Obi-wan blinked, taken slightly aback. That had to be one of the most straight-forward predictions he'd ever heard. It wasn't difficult to discern who 'The Chosen' was, but knowing that his actions would push Anakin in one direction or another frightened him more than a little.

Mother Talzin continued, her tone returning to normal. "I sense that if we enslave or break you here, it will only bring about our downfall. However, if we help and encourage you in your role, then it would be to the betterment of all."

Obi-wan couldn't help but scoff. "And you know this because you received a vision from the Dark side."

She laughed again, shaking her head mockingly, as if to pity him. "Poor child of the light, trapped in the dark, rejected by that which he holds most dear." And then she changed, her demeanor suddenly serious. "I will give you a choice. As of this moment, you may come and go from this planet and any area controlled by the Nightsisters as you wish, so long as you do not cause a threat to us. You will not learn what you need to learn if we try to force you, so you may choose to train with the Nightbrothers, or you can continue to stumble about in the darkness. It is your decision. Your training will be complete when you can hide your presence from me. Until that time, you cannot begin to hope to confront the Sith Lord and survive."

The former Jedi felt his eyes narrow. "You know of the Sith Lord."

"Of his existence, yes," the woman said with the slightest of shrugs and a nonchalant attitude. "His power, when he unleashes it, is not something anyone so attuned to the darkness could miss."

At that, Obi-wan frowned. Could that explain those random, strange sensations he kept feeling? That could explain a lot. He still did not like how she seemed to know so much that she really shouldn't though.

"And why would you think I wished to confront him?"

The woman laughed again, a cold, arrogant laugh. "Reading the waves of your hatred is quite amusing. It lays your darkest desires open to those who can understand."

Obi-wan's heart clenched in fear and denial. His desires were his own.

"Perhaps you will also wish learn that?"

He didn't say anything. It was a tempting offer, but not one that he trusted. He really wasn't sure why he'd come…but what other choice did he have?

Before he could speak again, Mother Talzin seemed to catch onto his general mind set and apparently decided to make a proposal.

"Perhaps a trial period is in order? If you have a problem learning with the brothers, then you can speak with me again. We will…work something out." And he did not like the way she looked him up and down at that, as if he were a piece of meat. Still, he did like that he didn't have to commit just yet…and he _had_ been looking for someone to teach him…

"I keep my lightsaber and ship. You do not own me or anything of mine. Are we in accord?"

The woman's smile seemed both smug and amused. She really seemed to like to play on his nerves, and he really just wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze the life out of her.

He shook the thought from his head as she answered.

"Very well. If that is your wish."

"It is."

"Beejot, escort our newest brother to the fifth group. I believe he will do well there."

Obi-wan refused to thank her. Instead he used the Force to draw his bag to him and, with one final warning glance around, turned to follow the woman who had spoken earlier, hoping beyond hope that he had not made a mistake.

xXx

They took the _Refracted Edge_ to the Nightbrother clan. Obi-wan watched the woman, Beejot, with open suspicion as she directed him to the area where he would potentially be spending the next several months. She did so with gestures and rarely spoke, which was fine with him. He was surprised that she seemed to know her way around technology. He'd expected her to be nervous or awkward, but if she was, she hid it well.

It actually took longer to secure his ship than it did for them to fly to the clan territory. He briefly wondered if all of the 'maling' camps were that close to Nightsister territory but ultimately decided it didn't matter. He finished sealing his transport and went to follow the woman into the settling only to stop short. The men who lived there had come to watch him, each holding in their curiosity but not bothering to hide their wariness about him in general.

That he could handle just fine. It was really their species that had him pausing.

"Zabaraks," he muttered to himself, bringing his fingers up to rub the bridge of his nose. "It had to be Zabaraks."

Not that he had anything against the species, it was just that he felt as if the Force were playing a rather nasty prank on him. All he could see when he saw them was the face of the Sith he'd killed on Naboo, which in turn brought up memories of his loss there, which tore at old wounds and increased his connection to the Dark side. Of course.

Still, he was determined to stay until he could be sure this was a waste of time. Mother Talzin hadn't been wrong when she'd pointed out that he was seeking training. Besides, maybe this would be the best place to actually learn to use the darkness.

The clan's little 'encampment' was actually more of a village like structure and more permanent than he'd originally thought it would be. Perhaps he'd been playing up the idea of 'savages' in his mind. That had been how the Temple teachings had described them.

Beejot looked to be having a rather interesting conversation with one of the Zabaraks. He did not look happy and kept shooting Obi-wan nasty looks. It amused the former Jedi more than anything, especially seeing him so flustered while the Nightsister stood calmly in front of him. Despite her far slimmer stature it was impossible to not understand who controlled the situation.

Finally the Zabarak turned to him, glowering. "This way," he practically growled before turning and stalking away. Obi-wan raised one eyebrow at him and then strode after him.

As he passed Beejot, she whispered the first full sentence he'd heard from her. "We expect great things from you."

He paused for only a moment and glanced at her curiously and more than a little wary. She, however, watched him with a stony face. Something jolted through the Force too fast for Obi-wan to identify it and he narrowed his eyes in warning. She didn't pay him much mind, though, instead turning and striding calmly away from the settlement.

Obi-wan watched her for a moment more before he followed after the Zabarak again. He caught up with him just outside of the largest building in the compound.

He didn't say anything as he led Obi-wan into what looked like a hallway filled with small, closet-like rooms, each holding only a cot and a few blankets. A little over half-way down the hallway, the Zabarak stopped and pointed inside.

"You stay here."

Obi-wan simply nodded to him and moved into the room. It may not be much, but Obi-wan had had to make do with less. At least this offered some privacy, and it wasn't as if he'd brought much with him to begin with.

"This will be too easy," the Zabarak said from behind him, the other's voice filled with a sudden sadistic glee. Obi-wan didn't feel any threat through the Force, but the malice from the being was all too palpable. He certainly wasn't making any secret that Obi-wan was not welcome here.

"Your name?" the ginger-haired man asked, making sure to keep his voice neutral.

"Victen," he responded. They stared each other down for several seconds, but it wasn't anything Obi-wan couldn't handle. For the first time in what felt like forever, the calm came naturally to him and he sat there, easily handling the other man's animosity. It wasn't the serenity he was used to, but a surety that yes, he could best this being.

After several minutes, the Zabarak grinned nastily. "Can't wait to see you in action tomorrow, Jedi."

Obi-wan's demeanor gained just the hint of ice. "I am no longer a Jedi."

"Just as weak as one, though. Just as easy to kill."

This time Obi-wan couldn't help gaining a grin of his own as he remembered Naboo again, his thoughts filled only with the expression of shock and pain as he fell away. Just a few months ago a comment like that would have worried him. Had these creatures killed Jedi? But now, he just couldn't help but think that they could try to undermine him as much as they liked. Perhaps this was a game with deadly stakes, but he'd been playing in those kinds of fields for decades now.

Victen's own smile faded just a bit.

"We rise at dawn," he hissed and walked away. Obi-wan went about getting to sleep. He may be here to learn, but he was no novice. And if they pushed him, they'd find out just as solidly as Ventress did why one should never push a Jedi.

xXx

Getting back on a more normal schedule wasn't a problem, even if his body did protest for the first day or two. Dathomir actually had a similar rotation to Courscant, only being slightly longer by a few minutes. The rigorous training the Nightbrothers adhered to became, much to their annoyance, a welcome reprieve and something he found he could concentrate on without allowing his mind to wander where he didn't wish for it to.

Really the hardest adjustment came in the form of Obi-wan having to adapt to their way of life—immensely less refined than what he was used to at the Temple. Breakfast consisted leftovers from the night before. Lunch was practically non-existent and dinner came in the form of whatever they caught that day. That wasn't so unusual. It was actually the hunting—like a pack of well-coordinated but vicious canines—and how they often ate their catches raw that got to him. Between that and their form of celebration (little more than raucous chaos) that seemed to take place every night, the entire lifestyle just didn't appeal to him, and he found that he felt distanced from the other beings in the clan. He didn't exactly have a problem with that though.

Fortunately, his semi-voluntary isolation didn't stem from his being unable to keep up with them. He actually had little problem doing so, finding that his patient form of Soresu worked as a perfect foil to their rushed, often single-minded fury. True, his hand-to-hand combat skills (which they seemed to emphasize) had never been his strong point, but he had survived more than one battle situation without his lightsaber. He did not win every spar, but he could generally hold his own, and he also had more focused training when it came to the Force.

He ranked almost first when it came to weapons, and he could tell they hated that. It actually filled him with a sort of smug confidence that he didn't flaunt. Although none of them had anything as civilized as a sword (let alone a lightsaber) he found that his saber training and real-life combat had kept him in top shape.

The practice he found most helpful, though, was actually their meditation session. It was by no means anything he was used to as, even though they would all retreat to their quarters when instructed, quiet didn't seem to be a part of anything they did, and this was no exception. The first day of his training, Victen (the leader of the clan, apparently) came to instruct him in the new practice. He still made almost no attempt at civility, but apparently he had been instructed to keep an eye on the newcomer, and so he did.

His basic was harsh, guttural and heavily accented, making it difficult for Obi-wan to understand everything, but he got the general gist surprisingly quickly. Their form of meditation meant focusing on that which would strengthen their connection to the 'life blood of the spirit'. At first, saying that Obi-wan hadn't been happy would be an understatement. The last thing he wanted to focus on was his guilt and pain. Apparently Victen wasn't too impressed at Obi-wan's reluctance and left with an even more menacing smile after he commented that he would be looking forward to the next night.

That sounded rather ominous to the former Jedi and he made a mental note to keep his lightsaber on him for the next little while and proceeded to observe his fellow trainees more closely.

Two of them stuck out to him in particular. They were younger, barely 19 standard years if that, but Obi-wan could feel their strength in the Force, and what was more, their attachment to the other. He came to the conclusion that they were brothers (or at least closely related) as one always seemed to look out for the other. Just watching them reminded him of himself and Anakin, and it hurt.

He found that when in their vicinity, he tended to do much better at the exercises everyone was given.

His third day there heralded the coming of the head Brother. Apparently he was in charge of and ran all of the camps in the area. Viscral. He was supposedly a warrior of great renown and someone all of the Nightbrothers looked up to. Obi-wan decided to withhold judgment and couldn't help but feel a rather great sense of relief at his choice. It seemed his good sense was slowly returning to him after all.

The moment the Head Brother stepped into the village, Obi-wan felt a sense of tense anticipation permeate his very being. Something would happen because of this, something the Dark side seemed ecstatic about. He immediately went on guard and glared at the other being. Almost as if he could sense Obi-wan's gaze (a distinct possibility), he turned and met the former Jedi's stare. Obi-wan didn't much care for the glint he saw in the man's eyes and his guard kicked up even higher. The head Zabarak didn't say anything, even after he'd stepped onto a platform in the center of the village. Instead he just stood there and grinned like a hungry shark as he looked over the rabble before him.

Then Victen pronounced that the day's training would commence. Somehow Obi-wan knew that whatever the Force anticipated would happen soon. Worse, he would be required to give up his lightsaber for the spar. He considered keeping it anyway. What could they really do, after all? But something told him that his paranoia was unnecessary. He furrowed his brow and concentrated on that little nudge. Was that the Force? The Dark side, of all things, was giving him reassurance?

And yet…

He glanced up at where Victen and Viscral were seated on the platform, noticing that Viscral was watching him thoughtfully.

Then he felt the nudge again.

_It's a test,_ he realized. Whatever was coming up would be something either set before him by the Nightsisters via Viscral or some form of acceptance ceremony…or hazing. Perhaps a combination of all three options.

And somehow he also knew that he would have to surrender his lightsaber to pass.

The Jedi Knight Obi-wan Kenobi would have considered the pros and cons upon this realization and most likely he would have simply refused to enter if it could be helped. The Dark Jedi Obi-wan Kenobi still weighed the pros and cons. He knew they hadn't told him much of anything when it came to gaining control and techniques. The meditation helped immensely (even if he hated it far more than what Anakin had ever claimed of the Jedi equivalent), but there were other things that he needed to learn if he wanted to confront Sidious.

But did he want to give into that so easily? Was this really worth his life? Because that was the only kind of a test he could see these people giving.

And then he thought of Anakin sitting on Courscant, subject to the Sith's mercy, and his fists clenched. Fine. He would play along with their little game for now.

The first few fights ended as they normally did, with a clear captor beating their opponent down rather viciously amidst roars of encouragement and angry protests. Obi-wan didn't participate. He didn't see much of a point, even if he could feel the Force weaving itself in and through the rampant emotion running wild amongst the rabble.

Then Victen turned to him, a vicious grin on his face.

"You, Jedi. You're next."

Obi-wan eyed him for a moment before tossing his lightsaber in his direction. The Zabarak caught it easily.

He stepped into the clearing in the middle and stood there, seemingly relaxed but really poised to jump into action at any moment. He didn't trust them to play fair.

After a moment of suspicious quiet (not silence, never silence around here), he glanced at Victen.

"Who is my opponent?"

The Zabarak's grin widened. "Everyone. We can pass your death off as a training accident easily enough. You should have known better than to come here, outsider."

Obi-wan's eyes went wide as the hoard around him rushed forward. For just a moment he felt a rush of fear. He couldn't last long weaponless against to many other Force users…and then he thought of Anakin, and knew he would do whatever he had to do.

He focused on his anger at the unfairness of the situation and their blatant prejudice. He brought to mind his hatred of the Sith Lord, who he blamed for all of this…and he ignored any reservations he had. He allowed himself to fall into that ever crushing and consuming shame that had more or less become apart of him. If he wanted to survive this—if he wanted to give Anakin a chance—he had to survive. No matter what.

So he pulled a spear to him from the hands of one of the more inexperienced malings and attacked, losing himself to the wild flurries and eddies of the Force, demanding that it tell him where and when he needed to move. It did.

If he would have been able to see himself, he may have noticed that his eyes had melted from the grey blue to a harsh yellow…and that he was grinning.

xXx

When he came to himself again, he stood alone in the center of the crowd. The malings had backed well away from him, watching him with a strange combination of fear, respect and anger.

It took him a moment to realize why. The reason lay at his feet.

He actually gasped and his blood froze in his veins.

Had he really done that? He couldn't count the number of bodies offhand, but it had to be upward of a dozen—maybe more. So many men lay dead or dying around him…and his hands…so red…why did he see dark red everywhere he looked?

He wanted to be sick; wanted to sink into the ground and never rise again, but then there was part of him that felt so…_satisfied._ He suspected that it had a great deal to do with the rushing of the Dark side that seemed to curl around him in approval. It made him even more nauseous and he had to concentrate on not emptying his stomach.

Unbidden, his mouth opened, ready to deny that he'd had anything to do with this…this _slaughter_, but he knew that he had. This had been his doing, no matter how much that part of him that still longed for the Jedi Temple wished to deny it. He also knew that if he spoke—that if he showed any weakness—he would have to continue to fight. He could already feel where people had managed to get past his defense, even if only barely, to leave cuts and bruises, nothing too major (he wondered at that) but if he went on like this, he would die…and he had to live.

Victen looked about ready to murder him, and Obi-wan wanted to look away, but he couldn't allow himself to do so. He met the gaze steadily, causing the other being to only glare harder. Then he turned and looked at Viscral, who nodded smugly, looking all too happy to sit back and watch. He looked to be _enjoying_ the spectacle and watching his brethren die like this.

Obi-wan wondered if he would ever be like that one day and couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes to try and banish the awful images that brought up. He couldn't think about that. Not now. Because then he really would be sick.

Anakin. He had to think of Anakin. And the other Jedi that Sidious wanted to wipe out…and the other free people of the universe. He was doing this to help them.

A snap-hiss brought him rather quickly out of his reverie. A nudge through the Force and he looked up to see Victen jumping through the air towards him, Obi-wan's own lightsaber ignited, the blue blade falling towards him.

He dodged out of the way, ignoring with some difficulty the mess he was rolling over. Victen landed with a loud thump, lightsaber cleaving the ground Obi-wan had been standing on not moments before.

And then he fell back into the dance, this time dodging and moving away from the blade he could not otherwise deflect. The Zabarak's swings sliced through the air in powerful strokes, and Obi-wan knew that –that both of them—had immersed themselves completely in the darkness. The thing was, as powerful as the Zabarak's strikes were, his style (like the style of most of the men there) was mostly predictable, primitive and unrefined. He fought well, but there were several openings if Obi-wan could just get close enough to exploit them.

And so he waited, as patiently as he could, continuing to dodge, jump, roll and scurry away from his own blade.

Then, one of the men on the ground cried out as Victen stomped over his body. Both of the fighters paused and looked down at him. He was still alive? Obi-wan could see he had a rather large wound across his back, and it was bleeding sluggishly, but he was willing to move the fight somewhere else if they wanted to save their own.

Victen's expression suddenly turned to disgust. "Weakling," he hissed and stabbed the man through with the lightsaber. The man cried out once more before going limp and Obi-wan felt his life drain away in a manner that felt so familiar…

And then he realized why. It felt similar to his Master's life as it had faded away. And that suddenly they were not on Dathomir in the middle of a village, but on Naboo. Obi-wan wasn't facing the leader of the village, but the red-and-black tattooed Sith. Qui-gon was dying, and all this Sith wanted to do was gloat and Obi-wan hated him for it. He'd wanted to kill the man then, but now that feeling seemed magnified several times over. Angrily, he rushed forward, somehow knowing exactly what the Sith would do. He jumped over the swinging blade, falling back into the form IV style flipping gracefully to land just before the other being. Then, faster than most people could blink, he reached out and grabbed the Sith's wrist, snapping it neatly with a deft turn.

The being cried out in pain, but Obi-wan paid him no mind. He used the Force, demanded that it bring his lightsaber to him. The moment he felt the warm metal touch his skin, he switched it on, ducked a desperate, weaponless attack from the other and swung. For the second time in his life, he watched as the Sith stared in shock before collapsing into two separate heaps on the ground.

He turned to go to his Master's side, but was confused when he heard a loud, steady clapping. He also realized that he wasn't in the belly of a palace reactor and control center, but outside and on a planet that had a distinctly red hue to its sky.

"Well done," a new voice speaking in almost perfect basic said, and Obi-wan blinked at the man who had talked. Viscral. Then he blinked again and looked down at where the Sith lay, but he only saw Victen lying there on top of his other comrades, his face still twisted in shock.

More than a little dazed and confused, Obi-wan didn't trust himself to speak, so instead he held his lightsaber defensively in front of him as the other man approached.

"I mean you no harm," Viscral insisted, holding his hands up in a show of vulnerability. Obi-wan didn't believe he was vulnerable for a second, so he didn't lower his blade, but he also didn't attack.

"Then what do you mean to do?" the former Jedi asked, his voice calm but dangerous.

To his surprise, the man grinned and then threw his head back and laughed. It was a harsh, cruel laugh, but a genuine one nonetheless.

"They were right about you," he finally said after a moment. "So much potential…"

Obi-wan forced himself to not grit his teeth together. Something about this man seriously irked him. The way he was sizing Obi-wan up—like a prized nerf—did nothing to endear the man to him.

"Well," Viscral continued, turning to wave his hand at the malings still watching the proceedings warily and then gesturing to the bodies on the ground before turning back to Obi-wan. "You certainly proved that you deserve to stay here."

"I suspected this was a set up," Obi-wan muttered bitterly.

"Everything except Victen attacking you," Viscral confirmed. "He was supposed to stay out of it, but he has paid the price for his inability to see. Just so you know, as you killed him, you can claim his position as head of the village."

Obi-wan blinked at that, his mind working to wrap itself around the words.

"No," he said after a hesitation, but his answer was firm. "I have no desire to rule over a measly group of short-sighted beings."

Viscral shrugged nonchalantly although he seemed more intrigued than ever. "As you wish. I merely put forth the possibility."

"Another test?" Obi-wan asked dryly.

The Zabarak just grinned. From this distance, Obi-wan could swear his teeth looked jagged. "I am here to teach you what you wish to know, Jedi."

"I am not a Jedi," Obi-wan spat.

The Zabarak raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I saw how you paused when the injured cried out. You would have taken pity on him, even now."

Obi-wan frowned. "I will not kill in cold blood."

Viscral laughed again, this time low and mocking. "And that is why I will continue to call you 'Jedi'."

If looks could kill, the man in front of Obi-wan would have been little more than atoms in moments. Without responding (doing so would only be playing into his hand), the former Jedi turned and walked away, not caring how the rest of the Nightbrothers parted before him or how they shrunk away in fear.

xXx

Thanks to Windona for her beta reading skillz!


	10. Chapter 10

_I honestly can't believe the Jedi were so blind as to not realize who the Sith was. Looking back now, it is truly obvious. And really, it all came down to a matter of simply asking who benefited from the war. Of course a great many other people and groups were profiting from the conflict. For instance, the banking clans, the Kaminoans, the pirates and other outlaws who had found a new freedom of their own with the law enforcement and Jedi tied up in battles, the Trade Federation, The Techno Union and many more all stood to gain something. The truly objective wouldn't have discounted anyone from the lowest aid to the Chancellor himself. And that's where the Jedi should have seen, because the Chancellor benefited quite a bit. Some of the laws and rules he'd begun to lay down didn't seem to be in line with his previous politics, and all his actions seemed to do was give him more power. He took on all the responsibility and emergency powers with a sad expression and a supposedly heavy heart, but he still took them every single time, never passing up an opportunity. _

_Even now I wonder who was really at fault for the Jedis' blindness: Palpatine with his phenomenal acting abilities and control, or the Jedi who all seem to be able to lie to themselves so well. _

It struck Anakin as grimly amusing that he would be standing patiently outside of the Council Room, waiting to be admitted. Just a few weeks before, he had not doubt he would have been pacing the room in his restlessness. His current 'serenity' didn't come from any kind of inner peace, but from a tiredness that didn't seem to have anything to do with his actual body.

He'd come to realize it just days before. He was tired of the war, tired of fighting, and tired of talking back. His conversation with Obi-wan had seemed to suck almost all of his strength away, and now he was left feeling like an empty shell of what he used to be. Everything just seemed so…_daunting_ without Obi-wan there. He felt the weight of the Republic had come to rest squarely on his shoulders, along with the rest of the galaxy because of his status as the Chosen One, and he couldn't seem to do anything but what the Council told him to do anymore.

Oh, he still disobeyed when the situation called for it—he would never be the calm, subservient Jedi the council wanted him to be, not after what Obi-wan had told him—but had almost gotten to a point where he just accepted their words and waved away the anger and resentment that his critics showed to him because he simply didn't have the energy to care. He did notice, however, that (funnily enough) that group no longer included Mace Windu. Apparently he'd listened to Obi-wan, at least somewhat, because he had actually _apologized_ to Anakin for treating him so harshly. Well, not in so many words, but for once, Anakin had been able to see the gesture for what it was. Since then, Mace had been nothing if not encouraging and helpful. He'd even begun to instruct Anakin in saber training when they both happened to be at the Temple together, stating that he was taking care of an old friend's Padawan.

Anakin almost found himself smiling sadly. He still held some feelings of resentment towards the Korun master, but they were quickly dissipating in their new…well, he wouldn't call it a friendship, but acquaintanceship perhaps? Was that even a real word?

And since when had he become so introspective? Or used such words, even in his own thought processes?

He knew the answer. It had been since he'd realized that Obi-wan wouldn't be coming back. The mind-healer he'd been forced to see after the mission to Mandalore had pointed it out. He claimed that Anakin was attempting to fill the hole Obi-wan had left in his life. Anakin didn't know if that were true, and he didn't particularly care. He was too tired to care. Every time he thought of anything that had to do with Obi-wan, he just wanted to return to his room, pull the covers over his head and pretend that none of it was real.

At first, he'd been angry. But then he'd remembered how broken Obi-wan had looked. How sad and upset and…he just couldn't stay mad at the man. Not now that he wasn't there to argue with Anakin or poke and prod him into being a better Jedi.

Force, he missed his Master.

The only thing that seemed to be able to fill that gaping hole the mind-healer had pointed out was Padmé. When he couldn't slip away to 500 Republica, he would find a secret place to com her, or he would ask R2 to play holographs of her and him. It seemed to be his only release now-a-days, and he welcomed it.

"Padawan Skywalker," the aid to the Council said, bowing respectfully. "The Council will see you now."

With a nod, Anakin opened the doors and made to take a step in, but paused when he saw that the council chamber was dark. The windows had been turned to opaque and he could see no light. He could, however, sense them in there. He glanced back at the aid, who nodded to him encouragingly. Unsurely but determined to get whatever issue they had with him this time over with, he strode inside, ignoring the utter blackness as the doors closed with a dull clang behind him.

He knew where the middle of the room was, so he strode over to it and waited there, doing his best to release his confusion and anxiety to the Force.

Then the lightsabers began to ignite. One by one, the Council members each held up his or her weapon, as if in tribute. Anakin watched them with wide eyes.

The last one to hiss to life was a familiar purple one. By the light, he could see Mace Windu's face and was surprised when the man stepped forward with a smile.

"We were going to go with the traditional words in this instance," he said, "but you have never been traditional in any sense of the word."

Anakin was reeling. Was this…a _knighting_ ceremony?! Were they actually…

His mind shut down for a moment because he simply couldn't comprehend it.

Mace continued. "In the recent months since your Master's…disappearance," a wave of sadness washed over the room, snapping Anakin out of his trance, "you have shown a stunning amount of resilience and fortitude. At first, we did not believe you were ready to take on the duties of a Knight, but—especially recently—you have begun to show the traits of a true Jedi Knight. Your dedication and endurance along with your…determination to be creative," he smiled at this and Anakin realized he was talking about Anakin's tendency to disobey orders if he felt it necessary and couldn't help but return the smile. "These traits, among others, have proved to this Council that you are ready to become a Jedi Knight.

"Kneel."

Still in somewhat of a daze, Anakin did. He didn't so much as flinch as his braid was removed via lightsaber. The rest of the ceremony went by in a blurred haze that he couldn't recall later.

The next thing he knew, he was walking out of the room a newly minted Knight, feeling light and elated and energetic for the first time in weeks. He couldn't wait until he told Padmé!

The only thing that would have made it better would have been if his Master had been there.

xXx

_Darkness everywhere…permeating everything…suffocating the light…smothering it—destroying it—_

Pong Krell's eyes snapped open and it took him a minute to recognize the tent he had been staying in for the last few months. The Republic and Separatists might be trying to negotiate a peace treaty, but that did not mean in any way that the war had stopped. Battles and skirmishes were few and far between, but they still happened—still threatened the peace.

But then, Pong had come to the conclusion that it was meant to be, because every time he meditated these days, all he saw was the all-consuming darkness. And if he were to survive, he would have to join it. He knew that—could sense it in the very depths of his soul.

But he didn't know who the Sith Lord was, and he wasn't exactly well-versed in the dark arts (not to mention a little leery about giving himself over to such things just like that), so he remained stuck in a sort of physical and emotional limbo, not able to advance or retreat.

He hated it.

He felt trapped and stuck and he knew that what little patience he still had was waning…

Just then, his personal com went off. Sighing, he rose, folded three hands serenely behind him and picked up the unit with his fourth.

"This is General Krall," he said.

"Ah, yes. It is pleasurable to finally meet you in person, General."

Pong frowned. He'd been expecting the Jedi Council, but the person who stood on the small platform was not someone he recognized at all. Actually, the way his hood draped off of his head, casting a rather heavy shadow, it would be a miracle if he would be recognizable at all. Still, something about this mysterious figure radiated…_menacing._

"And who is this?"

A small chuckle. "You can sense the darkness coming. I know you can."

Pong couldn't stop his eyes from opening slightly before they narrowed and he leaned forward.

"And how would you know that?"

The sinister grin on the man's face grew. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Darth Sidious, and I have a proposition for you."

Pong couldn't believe his luck. Or perhaps it was the Force? Well, whatever the reason, he had indeed accomplished his goal of catching the eye of the Sith Lord.

"I'm listening," he said.

Impossibly, the grin widened further.

xXx

Obi-wan breathed in, forcing himself to recall the dark cell Ventress had kept him in. He breathed out and brought her leering face to mind. Breathe in—Adius taunting him as he whipped Obi-wan with a scourge—Breathe out—he accepted that he'd wanted to kill them both, that he still hated them for what they'd done.

"Good," Viscral's voice managed to permeate the trance Obi-wan had managed to gain. "Once you become more advanced, you will be able to recall the emotions instantly. Until then, you must continue with this exercise at least three times a day."

Obi-wan felt his lips thin. He didn't _want_ to focus on these kinds of things—especially not three times a day. But he didn't say anything.

Viscral must have noticed the tensing of his muscles because he laughed. "Oh, you are so amusing, my little dark Jedi."

And he hated how the other man called him that, no matter how true it was. Instead of lashing out, though, he focused on the emotion, exploring it and the effects it had on his body and mind. Most of him found it discouraging, but part of him seemed to revel in it. That little part of him seemed to grow more and more every day. How he hated this.

"Good, good," the other being hissed in approval. "Once you can accept your emotions, you can control them."

_You mean lock them away until I need them_, Obi-wan thought dryly to himself. But it made sense, in a sort of twisted way. If he could keep his emotions locked away, building and building until he could use that energy…well, he could see why dark-siders did this.

Actually, the fact that he could understand that scared him more than he wanted to admit. What really got to him was that even as a Jedi he'd done this, thinking that it was what a Jedi should do. Just lock them away and control them, or release them into the Force and ignore them—ignore that they never vanished and were still there and...if this was the darkness' way of dealing, then what should be the true Jedi way and where had he missed it? He knew the differences were there, but they were so subtle. How close had he always been to falling?

"You will undergo a series of tests," Viscral went on, voice nonchalant but tone anticipatory. Obi-wan didn't like the sound of it but didn't open his eyes. "These tests will help us analyze your ability to control your emotions. With your Jedi training, I expect much from you."

Obi-wan grit his teeth. It was as if the Dathomirian had just read his mind. "Jedi teach us to recognize and release our emotions, not bottle them inside until they explode." And saying it like that did make him feel better about it.

Viscral's answer seemed amused, as if he were humoring a child. "You mean ignore instead of use," the Zabarak pointed out casually. "And it need not explode if you can find a way to release the pressure."

At least he admitted it could be harmful. Kind of. Obi-wan opened his eyes and glared at the Zabarak before him. Recognize and release. That was what it all boiled down to. The dark-siders simply stored up them up before doing so, it seemed, which created a problem in and of itself. "If I am to accomplish my goals, I may need to keep a low profile for a while. I cannot simply release any dark energy and emotion without giving myself away to the Jedi or the Sith."

Viscral grinned openly at him. "Yes. There are ways around that—shields, techniques, inanimate, Force-laced objects, some of which can be created."

Obi-wan frowned again. He knew how to imbue the Force into objects—that was, after all, how holocrons worked, but the techniques for putting specific kinds of Force signatures and energies into objects had been lost for centuries and few in the Jedi saw the need to rediscover them. His skepticism must have shown on his face because Viscral responded with a shake of his head.

"Have you not wondered how the Sith Lord manages to keep hidden?"

The former Jedi's frown deepened. "You are rather informed, I must say."

Viscral studied him for a moment, then raised one eyebrow. "You thought he just had the strength to continue to contain it." And then he laughed again. "Oh, you have built him onto a pedestal, my Jedi friend."

"It is better to assume the worst," Obi-wan snapped.

For the first time, Viscral's smile dimmed. "You're allowing your emotions to control you again."

Obi-wan wanted to growl in frustration, but he didn't. If someone was right, then they were right. Besides, if he could lock away his love for his son, then he could do this, right? And that was what he'd been doing for so long—pretending that he didn't care for Anakin so.

"Better," Viscral said, smile back in place. "You'll be a fast learner, I think. Mother Talzin will be pleased."

Obi-wan's lips thinned. "I'm sure," he said.

xXx

The malings still seemed horribly wary of him, not that he blamed them. All of the lives he'd taken… He considered exploring the idea behind that, but in truth, he sill wanted to shy away from the thought, so he indulged his lighter side and steered his thoughts away by thinking of his former Padawan. This was for Anakin. And the Temple. And the Republic. He could carry this burden if it meant they would come out of this mess alright.

He didn't allow himself to sigh at the thought, although he wanted to. Instead he simply continued his kata, moving his lightsaber in flowing movements that seemed more like a dance. Despite his recent change of alignment, he decided to stick with his defensive form III as his main form. He did, however, incorporate some of the more aggressive movements of the locals into his secondary form IV. They may be uncivilized and unrefined, but that did not make them any less effective if they struck. Besides, he was positive he could refine them given enough time.

He recognized the two brothers he'd noticed before watching him at a distance. Again. Whenever he trained it seemed like these two wouldn't be too far behind. Obi-wan had tolerated it up until this point, thinking that if he just ignored them that they would eventually become bored. They hadn't though, and so he decided that enough was enough.

"Is there something you would like to say to me?" he asked, not breaking form once. The two exchanged glances but said nothing. They also didn't leave.

"Well?" Obi-wan prodded.

Finally the younger one stepped forward. "I'm Feral. This is Savage." Obi-wan raised an eyebrow. What original names.

"Obi-wan Kenobi," he returned, still continuing with his work-out.

"We know who you are."

"I was being polite."

They didn't seem to know what to make of that and again fell into an awkward silence that Obi-wan was more than willing to wait out, concentrating on the movements of the form and flow through the Force.

Finally the larger of the two pushed himself forward. "We want to learn that."

It took every ounce of concentration Obi-wan had to not falter. "You…want to learn lightsaber fighting?"

"Yes."

He finished the kata and deactivated his lightsaber before turning to face them and crossing his arms. "Why? What good will it do you when you will not be able to find a crystal for your own lightsaber, even if you did know the mechanics behind building such a weapon?"

Savage just looked angry and embarrassed, but Feral seemed thoughtful.

After a moment, he spoke. "There's something different about the way you fight and the way we fight. I think you can do more with yours."

Obi-wan folded his arms, gaining a thoughtful look himself. "The forms are rather adaptable," he allowed.

"Forms?" Savage asked. He didn't seem like he lent himself to talking much. Something about him seemed terribly familiar to Obi-wan too, but he couldn't quite place what.

Still, he didn't see much of a point in not answering their questions. "The Forms are a series of different techniques that make up the basis of how a Jedi fights. Form one is the most basic. Form two is similar to high-court fencing. Form three, my preferred form, is almost purely defensive. Form four and five are offensive in different ways. Form six is a bit of a combination of all other forms and form seven is unpredictable and difficult to master."

Feral looked down and shuffled a bit. For a moment he reminded Obi-wan so much of a teenaged Anakin that he almost laughed at the image.

"Could you…teach us?"

Obi-wan's humor vanished. That was…most definitely not a good idea. If he taught them, then even if others didn't come and ask to be taught by Obi-wan, the two of them could still pass the knowledge on and the result would be a world that bred fighters with the ability to take on Jedi. Most definitely not desirable.

"You have yet to answer my question," he said, figuring he could break it to them somewhat easily. He wasn't in the mood to be cruel today, dark side or not. "Why do you want to learn?"

"We want to live," Savage said simply, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Obi-wan frowned. "What do you mean? You already both fight very well. Why would you have to fear dying?"

The two exchanged glances and Feral spoke again, his tone grim. "We know why we're here," he said softly. "Our sole purpose for existing is breeding. The stronger we are, the more likely we are to get taken as a mate and then killed."

"The Nightsisters kill their mates?"

"It happens."

His frown deepened. "Then won't teaching you how to fight better simply draw more attention to you?"

"We're willing to take the risk," Savage said—growled really. He seemed terribly defensive, almost protective. That was something Obi-wan could associate with.

"We want to win our freedom some day," Feral said, his voice even quieter than before, but he squared his shoulders solidly. "We don't know if it will be possible, but it will happen or we'll die trying."

Obi-wan stared at the two for several seconds before sighing. With those words, he couldn't say no. They were slaves just as much as Anakin had been. He didn't like getting them involved, but when he looked at them he couldn't help but see his Padawan…what his Padawan _could_ have been.

"Very well," he said resignedly, knowing he would regret this. "Bring back some staffs. No heavy weapons. Lightsabers have no weight on the cutting end and the katas are built around that fact."

He really hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

xXx

The news came to the maling village belatedly. At least Obi-wan was rather certain that it was far from breaking news. And why should it be? Dathomir wasn't really affected.

It affected him though. His heart almost stopped when he heard. Negotiations had deteriorated after the Separatists found a new leader for their army—a leader whose identity they refused to disclose.

War was back on and the Jedi had returned to the front.

xXx

AN: Thanks so much for the support in this, guys. I've actually recently come across a seriously good dark Obi-wan fic on AO3 by one of my favorite authors (esama). I highly recommend you check it out if you like this one. :)

Thanks again and props to my lovely beta Windona!


	11. Chapter 11

_There is a parable from Chandrila that is taught in most institutions in the Core and Colonies. The idea revolves around placing a Barsknow, a small, amphibious creature usually eaten as a delicacy, in a cooking pot with water and then turning the heat up two or three degrees every six minutes. If one turns up the heat too quickly, the animal will hop out, but if one can do so slowly enough, the animal will boil to death, thus preserving the flavor of the meat. _

_People fall by degrees, and that is what the parable teaches. The Dark side is like that pot filled with water, for me. It seems to push just a little further each time. I fear that I have been boiling for a while and no longer know when to scream. Or perhaps I have been screaming and no one can hear me._

With the Clone Wars back on, Obi-wan decided that he could no longer afford to simply sit on Dathomir and train and so he began to leave the planet now and then. A plan had been forming for a while in Obi-wan's mind and he needed to go about putting it into action. The best way to get close to the Chancellor would be as a Senator. Senators had their base on Coruscant, but they came and went on a fairly regular basis and it wouldn't be too difficult to set himself up and still maintain his training and other off-world activities if he played it correctly.

With that in mind, Obi-wan began to search. It would have to be a core world that he 'represented' and he would have to have a solid background. That meant taking someone else's over. He didn't want to chance a fake background.

So he made a list of planets that had a presence in the Senate whose elections would be coming up within the next few months and started his research on the candidates. It was a grueling process simply due to the overwhelming numbers of people he had to investigate. Of course he had to rule out every female and most non-human species, which cut the list down a fair amount, but he would still have months of investigations to work through.

The hardest part about most of it was the fact that he would have to go to each of the planets to do his research. He couldn't simply do so from Dathomir; hence why he had to leave and cut time out of his training (sometimes for weeks at a time) to keep up on the project.

He ended up with an ever changing list of people who fit his general bill. He wanted to take the place of someone with as few family members as possible and bad relations with those few they had. He needed someone with a fair amount of resources about his height and preferably someone who had some nasty skeletons in their closet. He was bound and determined to stick to his 'no killing innocents' policy, but if he could find proof of some illicit business then he would have little problem killing them and taking over their life.

At that point, it would be a fairly simple matter to take their blood and get their fingerprints and eye scans for security, and he was positive he could get the equipment necessary to maintain his façade for months—maybe even years—at a time. He would probably have to get some reconstructive surgery for his face and if he had to use dyes for hair, then so be it. He would also probably have to get a body-double or actor to take his place when he came back to Dathomir to train. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself by leaving regularly for several days at a time, and that would be fairly obvious in the Senate.

Four months after he'd first gone to Dathomir, he'd managed to gather everything he needed with the exception of someone who fit his bill.

And then he came to a familiar planet: Eeropha. It was a wealthy colony planet (unfortunately not a core world, but something he could make work) that dealt with mining and refining fuel. At first Obi-wan almost dismissed the planet because while there was a man who fit his criteria running for office, he was not expected to win because the current Senators representing the planet had already won two elections. One was serving as Vice Chancellor as well, and thus had a fellow Senator to take some of the load. Before Obi-wan could take the man's name off of the list though, he remembered just _who_ the Vice Chancellor was: one Sano Sauro.

Sano Sauro had been a thorn in the Jedi's side for decades and seemed to have a personal vendetta against Obi-wan. Probably because Obi-wan had escaped the man's political traps multiple times. Sauro had also backed the uprising of Granta Omega, someone who had been the downfall of more than one Jedi, and had been behind the murder of one of Obi-wan's friends in the Senate (at least he had reasoned so at the time, perhaps there was more to it than that?) as well as a Padawan that had been close to Anakin.

Now, while most senators vacated their Senate Seat when elected to an office, Eeropha law insisted that he remain connected to the planet and continue to hold elections if he did not wish to be disowned by the planet. Apparently connections and history were highly valued there, which would make taking over an identity more difficult, but also more solid in the Senate if he pulled it off.

A plan began to form in Obi-wan's mind. He could take out one of the Jedis' enemies and gain his spy position in just a couple of moves…

xXx

The vacation was long overdue, but then that was the life of the Vice Chancellor. He was on his way to an inner-rim planet (he forgot the name, and it wasn't really that important anyway) for a three-week break. He planned on hiring the finest in companionship and gorge himself silly on the best food money could buy.

Ah yes, this really was the life. Things had really gone well for him since Chancellor Palpatine had asked him to take up the Vice Chancellorship.

He smiled and curled under the luxury blanket he'd ordered for his personal ship and continued to snooze, as he'd done for the last three hours. He really loved vacations. He had some work to catch up on later, but right now he would indulge in some personal time.

He was just drifting back to sleep when his vacation went up in flames.

A warning blared over the ship's comm unit and Sano jumped out of the bed, rushing out of the room as he shoved his arms through a somewhat presentable robe not moments later.

"What's going on?" he asked the pilot angrily as he stormed into the cockpit.

"We're under attack, sir," the man returned, his face white. "I've been trying to outrun them, but they have a gravity well."

Sano felt sick and he swallowed a lump in his throat. A gravity well meant a large ship with good engines. Who would attack so close to Republic space? "Can you tell who it is?"

The pilot shook his head. "They're pirates, but I can't find any identifying markings."

Sano's knees began to wobble and he grabbed onto the co-pilot chair (now empty) for support.

"P-pirates?" he asked incredulously. Oh, why had he brought his smaller ship? Sure it was easier to overlook if he'd stopped at a less reputable port, but…

And then he shook the thought from his head. He hadn't gotten where he was by dwelling on 'if only' and 'should have'. He'd had to work with less than desirable circumstances before, and he would do so now.

"Comm?"

"Jammed," the pilot replied.

"Options?" Because they didn't have any sort of external weaponry on a councilor ship. He'd have to look into getting something put in, even if he had to go under the table to do it. This had never happened before in this area of space (one of the reasons he'd gone to this destination) because it was too close to help.

"Jarsom is down in the engines with the others right now trying to get every last ounce of power out of her. We're less than a parsec away from Pengalon. If we can make it, they should let us go once we get into the planet's space. It'll be too risky to follow us otherwise."

Which made no sense. "Why did they attack us now? This close to a system?"

The pilot shook his head. "My guess is that they knew we were coming." He glanced up at his employer. "I think they're after you sir. This isn't just a random attack. They could have pulled a patrol out of hyperspace just as easily as us if it were. They had to know, somehow."

And he would find out who had leaked and ruin them. "Resources?"

"We do have enough weaponry to try and fend off an attack if they board."

"How likely is that?"

The man looked grim. "Rather likely, sir."

"What about escape pods?"

The pilot had obviously already considered that, but he still didn't look too hopeful. "It's the first place they'll look, but if we get boarded, it will probably be your last chance to get out of this, sir."

And really he was glad he'd paid these guys enough money to be loyal to him. Then again his compensation packages were pretty thorough. He almost felt badly that he'd have to give them out if these men died, but then again, it would be worth his life.

"Then that is what I will do. Thank you, and know I won't forget this."

"Yes, sir," the man said. Sano nodded respectfully to him (he needed to keep the man's allegiance after all) and then calmly turned from the cockpit. The minute the door closed, he was sprinting to his room. If someone was after him, then he had a few things he needed to destroy or hide.

xXx

Sano had just finished gathering what he needed when he glanced out the port and saw the underbelly of another ship instead of space. He paled again and grabbed his things, erasing the suite's personal computer on the way out and then shooting it with a blaster. It would take a lot to get something out of it now and Sano could only hope that they didn't have the time or resources to devote to it.

Then he ran out of the room and down the narrow hallway towards the escape pods. His ship may not have been large, but it was a luxury class ship and tended to have a little more space than even high-class freighters, but some things would never change and narrow hallways on ships saved space. He cursed it as he ran down it as quickly as he could manage, but he still didn't feel like he was moving fast enough. He had to get to the pod _now_.

"Sir," the intercom came on with the pilot's voice, causing Sano to pause. "I hope you're in a pod because we have to launch them now or they will be in range of being shot."

"What?! NO!" Sano yelled, redoubling his efforts.

"Launching pods."

Normally Sano avoided cursing. It was uncouth and below his station and reminded him of his origins—something he more often than not wanted to forget. In that moment though, the words that poured out of his mouth came in a variety of colors and crossed at least four different languages.

He reached the hallway that held the pods just in time to see the last one break away and begin to shoot off. In that moment he considered returning to the cockpit and killing the pilot personally.

Then he took a deep breath. If he were to survive this now, he would have to count on those men. Grudgingly, he turned from the room and began searching for a place to hole up until the fighting was done. He'd searched and discarded four rooms when the ship jolted. They'd either docked or were caught in a tractor beam and were fighting it. He hoped it was the latter.

The next room he appeared in was the dining room. It wasn't enormous, but decently sized and held side-tables and bureaus for decoration. He would like some place a little less obvious, but knew he needed to find a place to hide _now_. So he gripped the handle of the small case he'd stored everything he deemed necessary in a little tighter and bounded to one of the larger bureaus.

It was full of plates and other tableware. Sano didn't even bother to close the door and rushed to another one. It held tablecloths and other decorations. Figuring that most of them would be similarly stocked, he ground his teeth and grabbed an armful of the bureau's contents. He scooted a chair aside and threw them under the table and continued to do so until there was enough room for him to squeeze into. Then he replaced the chair and maneuvered himself into the small space.

He had no idea how long he sat there in the pitch black, curled up, but it felt like it had gone far past years and stretched into decades when he heard the door open. Then several men (at least that was what it sounded like) came into the room and stomped around. They spoke in a guttural language that Sano didn't recognize. It was harsh and angry and he hoped he never heard it again. He clutched his briefcase even tighter and braced himself to be found out as the sounds of the beings opening things and the crashing of plates being thrown out grew closer.

He was trapped. They would find him and there was nothing he could do! Even in the tight squeeze he managed to unlock his case and reached for his personal blaster and vibroblade. They wouldn't take him without a fight.

Then, to his surprise, someone else came into the room. He spoke in a smooth tenor and ordered the men to not waste their time in basic. The beings protested (at least that's what he assumed they did as he still couldn't understand them) but to Sano's relief, he heard them stomp out of the room.

He almost cried. Somehow he'd gained a reprieve.

It took him several more minutes to realize that his muscles were beginning to cramp. The space was extremely small and if he had to continue to hide in it, this may be his only chance to stretch for a while.

He was still cautious as he pushed the swinging door open and peered out. The ground was littered with plates and utensils. Those that were fragile enough had broken while the others lay haphazardly where they'd been thrown. He took a careful look around the darkened room but saw nothing else amiss and let out the breath he'd been holding. He still made sure he made as little noise as possible as he shifted and stepped out of the bureau.

Once on both feet, he stretched and rubbed his aching neck as he eyed the door. Should he peek out and see if anyone was coming? This was probably the best place to be at the moment, but they could come back. Should he try to move?

He was still contemplating his options when the tenor from earlier spoke.

"I know why you fear Jedi."

Sano spun around, blaster waving wildly as his eyes searching the room frantically but still found no one. He was alone…wasn't he?

"Who's there?" he said, noting with distaste how unsteady his tone sounded.

A wry chuckle met his words. "You don't recognize me either? I'd almost say that is a pity."

He could have _sworn_ no one had been in the shadows of the corner of the room the man stepped out of. He wasn't tall, but he projected an aura of power that seemed…menacing? No, but definitely anticipatory in some way. He wore a hood and a high collar, both obscuring his face. Nothing about his person seemed familiar at all.

"Who are you?!"

The being didn't answer, which only ticked Sano off more.

"Do you know who I am? The Senate will not tolerate an attack on—"

Another chuckle interrupted him. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Of course I know who you are. Senator of Eeropha, Sano Sauro, former public prosecutor and sponsor of one Granta Omega."

It was the last one combined with the first thing the man had said to him that gave Sano his answer. Very few knew of that except…

"Jedi," he hissed angrily, resentment overcoming some of his fear.

"Not quite," the man said nonchalantly. "You see if I were still a Jedi, our dynamic would be quite different."

Dynamic? And what did he mean by 'still a Jedi'? That did not sound good. Sano involuntarily took a step back.

"How do you mean?" he asked aloud. If he kept the man talking, then perhaps he may still get out of it. He had a feeling as to where this was going.

The man shrugged and then held out a hand to the side. A snap-hiss revealed a blue lightsaber and Sano took a few more steps back. Somehow that _did_ seem vaguely familiar, but how many Jedi had he met who had a similar color for their favored weapon? No, that wasn't a defining clue as to who he was dealing with, and truthfully, it didn't seem to fit the man anyway. Blue was a calm, serene and peaceful color. This man, despite his outward appearance, was anything but.

"Well," the other said, "if I were still a Jedi, you might survive this."

Sano had to make an effort to not swallow obviously and hoped that his face hadn't visibly paled, although he'd certainly felt the blood rush from his head.

"B-but Jedi don't' kill people!"

The being considered that for a moment. "No, they don't. But then that is why you hate them so much. They have a natural power but don't use it for their own advantage. It makes no sense to one such as you. That is also why you expect them to have less-than-wholesome motives somewhere—because you can't comprehend anything else.

"It is also why you would do anything to validate your ideals concerning them—even persecute a fourteen year old boy."

And then realization struck. His eyes widened in shock.

"Kenobi!"

The figure shook his head ruefully, but there was no denial in the movement.

"But you're dead!" Sano couldn't help but blurt. He remembered hearing the report that the Jedi had, once again, considered their general lost and presumed dead. He'd been recaptured and they didn't expect to see him again. Then again, Kenobi had come back from the dead before. He supposed he really shouldn't be that surprised.

Kenobi seemed to contemplate that. "So I am dead again?" Somehow the being seemed more amused by that than anything else. He didn't advance and still had his lightsaber down to one side. Sano knew that he wouldn't get a better opening.

Without so much as a grunt, he plunged forward blaster in one hand and vibroblade in the other. He shot several times, thinking Kenobi wouldn't have the room to maneuver his lisghtsaber in the limited space. To his dismay, the Force user managed to deflect every single beam, but his movements were direct and easy. Sano saw none of the usual flashy swings and noted that the man used absolutely no wasted movement. It was so unlike the Jedi he knew…

But he pushed that thought to the side and swallowed the worry gnawing at his gut, then abandoned his blaster in favor of the blade in his left hand. Kenobi had made a mistake in allowing him to get so close. Sano swung for the man's throat with as much force as he could, knowing he would have to cut through that collar and hood to get to the jugular he was aiming for. To his surprise, Kenobi ducked, deactivated his lightsaber and somehow rolled over the ground without cutting himself. Sano made to turn around and strike again, but before he could a gloved hand came up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it harshly.

Sano cried out as the knife clattered to the floor. The former Jedi's arm came around his neck in the next moment, holding him fast. For a moment, the room seemed unnaturally still, but then Sano tried to wrench away from the other man's hold, but to no avail.

"Jedi have power," Kenobi whispered harshly to him, "but you feared it instead of respecting it. Do you know why you should treat those with power with respect? Because one day, no matter your precautions, they could turn on you."

Sano tried to breathe, but it wasn't easy. Still, he could talk. "I…knew it," he managed to get out. "I knew…you would do something…like this one day."

The chuckle had turned dry. "The amusing thing is that you wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't been so suspicious."

Black spots had begun to crawl in at the edge of his vision.

"If…you kill me…you'll justify everything…I ever accused you of." It was a last ditch effort, but the Kenobi he remembered would have at least paused at that. He did, and Sano tried again to break free, but Kenobi was like a durocrete wall. He may have looked to be of average build, but he seemed to be made of pure muscle.

After a few moments, the man spoke again, his voice still coming in an easy—almost cruel—tone. "I could argue the point, but right now, I don't particularly care. There is no possible way you can make me feel guiltier than I already do, and you're in my way. To save him, you have to die."

The words caused Sano's blood to freeze. This was nothing like the bright boy he remembered—the one who had thwarted him so many times. And then he found himself flung forward at an incredible speed. He slammed into the wall, hitting his head. The ship spun for a moment and he couldn't help but just sit there, dazed. Then he felt something around his neck again and reached up to try and pry it off, only to find air. He tried to gasp in oxygen, but couldn't. What was happening?!

The black spots from before returned with a vengeance and the last thing he noted before they overtook his vision was that Kenobi had moved so that Sano could see under his hood. He looked so different—pale and wan and so utterly _satisfied…_

And then he knew no more.

xXx

Obi-wan wished he could say he felt dirty or awful about what he'd done, but truthfully the most he could muster was some self loathing to have fallen so far, and even that was overshadowed by the absolute satisfaction he felt. He'd been wanting Sauro gone for a very long time and in some ways felt like he'd begun to avenge his friend, Tyro Caladian. He was positive Sauro had been involved in his death.

Or had it all been Palpatine? Tyro had contacted him before, wanted to tell him something…had he realized?

If he had, then the information was there in the system. Obi-wan just had to find it. It continued to boggle his mind as to how blind the Jedi had been. How blind he himself had been. How blind the Republic was.

He sighed and shook his head at the thought. It had been a clean mission—get in, kill Sauro, get out—and little had gone wrong. He hadn't wanted to cut anything with his lightsaber as he didn't want to leave any sort of trail that would lead back to any Force-sensitive. That would just tip Palpatine off.

And he had succeeded. He was an assassin now.

Just like Ventress.

His hands clenched by his side. And there was the disgust he'd been searching for.

"Ah, there you are, my friend!" A voice drew him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see that he'd made it to the large cock-pit that bordered on 'bridge' size. The captain of the ship, one Hondo Ohnaka, had spoken up when the former Jedi had walked in. He'd been able to get back to the pirate ship rather easily, thankfully, because (as he'd predicted) the pirates had lifted off as soon as they'd stripped the ship of anything valuable. They didn't care whether he'd been left behind or not.

"Don't call me 'friend,' Hondo," Obi-wan said flatly. He'd met the group when they'd ambushed his ship on one of his trips away from Dathomir. Obi-wan had realized that they were exactly what he'd been looking for when it came to a group that could conceivably take a senator's ship. It had taken him a bit of convincing (both in the ways of threats and bribes) to get them to agree to such a risky venture, but it had been worth it in the end.

"You wound me," the pirate said with false emotion. The men around him snickered. Obi-wan rolled his eyes as the other being continued. "We are all friends here! You are our honored friend for helping us acquire a good deal of wealth."

The former Jedi frowned. "We are business partners. Nothing more."

Hondo gave an exaggerated sigh. "Well then, you are our honored partner. Why else would I have had my men spare everyone on your say so when they could have had had their fun."

Obi-wan shot him a disgusted glare before turning to walk to his quarters.

"I expect that you obtained your objective," Hondo said after him. Obi-wan stopped and glanced over his shoulder at the captain.

"Yes," he replied.

"And yet you didn't want for us to kill anyone."

Obi-wan ground his teeth, forcing himself to stay in control. There were so many implications in that sentence and the pirate knew it. "The difference between you and me, Hondo, is that I don't enjoy other's pain. This had to happen, that is all." And he would ignore how his statement completely went against his true emotions at the moment.

Hondo smiled and shook his head. "I can see how hard you would like to convince yourself of that, General."

Obi-wan's frown deepened. He hadn't told them who he was, so why would they call him that?

Hondo noticed the expression and smiled like a sea-serpent stalking pray. "Yes, I know who you are. You may have lost some weight and gained some scarring, but there was still enough there to do a facial recognition scan." He chuckled as Obi-wan's hand went for his lightsaber. This was not going well.

"Looking for this?" Honda asked, noting Obi-wan's movement. Then he held up the cylindrical object the only human on the ship had been looking for. Obi-wan had to give them credit, not many people could steal from a Jedi (and he really needed to stop thinking of himself as one, because really, he wasn't anymore).

"I wonder," the pirate captain continued thoughtfully. "Who would pay more for you? The Republic or the Separatists?"

And that quickly every person in the room had drawn a blaster. Six months before, Obi-wan would have concluded that the odds of someone dying in a fight that could result from this were too high and surrendered. Now he just felt a burning rage, not at their back stabbing, he'd known that they might turn on him, but more at the fact that they'd just become obstacles to his plans.

"Now why don't you just come quietly?" Hondo asked.

Obi-wan's eyes narrowed and he glanced around the room again. Then he slowly raised his right hand until it was almost parallel to the floor, palm directly facing the pirates on that side.

Hondo narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What are you—?"

But he was cut off as Obi-wan sent a wave of the Force in that direction, knocking over a third of the people on the bridge back. Then Obi-wan was flipping through the air, landing right by the pilot's seat and Hondo, sending a Force wave to the other side, hitting most of those who had remained standing. Then he ducked Hondo swinging a blaster in his direction and shot towards the man, pushing off with the Force towards the surprised and now frowning pirate.

He managed to grab the man's hand and, for the second time that day, twisted until he heard a snap. The gun clattered to the ground with a pained cry from the pirate. Then he grabbed the back of the jacket the captain was wearing and jumped up and over some more blaster bolts. Then, as he was landing, he reached out and called his lightsaber to him, activating it just as they touched down and he held it up to Hondo's throat, not caring that it would probably burn him.

The room fell into a tense silence.

"It will be difficult to collect from either side when you're dead. Perhaps the more important question would be why I shouldn't kill you right now?"

Hondo's eyes were wide and pained, and his wrinkled skin seemed to shake with every breath he took. Obi-wan knew he wasn't in complete control of the situation at the moment, but he'd gained back quite a bit of what he'd lost rather quickly…and he would be lying if he didn't at least admit to himself that that didn't strengthen the sense of satisfaction that he'd been trying to ignore since he'd killed Sauro.

Then the pirate captain spoke, his voice shaky and desperate. "I'm more important to you alive than dead!"

A stalling tactic then? Obi-wan wanted to scoff. What would he stall for? A few more moments wouldn't change anything. And therein lay the problem. He couldn't count on any solution they came to under these circumstances. Hondo wouldn't keep his word.

At that point, Obi-wan seriously considered just killing everyone in the room. He was positive he could do it, but no matter what he did he doubted he could avoid all the blaster bolts that would come his way before he got everyone. He was likely to be rather severely damaged, and he couldn't afford that right now. He'd have to stay away from Dathomir and training for another week at least while the shot healed, because he wasn't about to go down there at less than a hundred percent. He couldn't afford the stall, but if he let Hondo go with everyone here, they'd turn on him in a heartbeat.

Then he got an idea.

"Prove it," he whispered harshly into Hondo's ear. "Order everyone out of the cockpit."

A thin sheen of sweat appeared on the Weequay's face, and he didn't respond.

"Do it," Obi-wan growled, "or I will kill everyone here."

The pirate scoffed. "Even you couldn't do that."

Obi-wan raised one hand and grabbed a random flunky's throat in the Force, lifting him up, struggling and choking.

"I can and I will."

"Then why don't you?" Hondo challenged.

Obi-wan let the pirate flunky go, allowing him to drop to the floor with a thump, ignoring the coughing and sputtering from that direction.

"Don't you think it would be better to come to a conclusion where everyone wins?"

Hondo thought about that, but still didn't answer.

"Let me put it this way, this is the only way you get a chance at living," Obi-wan warned, bringing his saber closer to the Weequay's neck, smirking in satisfaction when he smelled the burned flesh and heard the man hiss in pain.

"Fine," the Pirate said. "Everyone else out. Now. Go."

A few protests sounded, but everyone eventually complied. As soon as the room was clear, Obi-wan pushed Hondo forward and then grabbed his neck with the Force. He didn't squeeze hard enough to kill the man, but he did lift him into the air and out of his way as he strode quickly over to the door and shoved his lightsaber through the control panel. That would at least give him enough time to do something if they decided to disobey Hondo.

Then he let the pirate captain down onto the floor in the center of the room, away from any control panels.

Hondo rubbed at his neck with his good hand and coughed before glaring up at Obi-wan. "And how is this 'a situation where everyone wins'?" he croaked.

Obi-wan stared down at him disdainfully. "You live. That is how you win. You also get to keep all the loot you took. You profit from this."

Hondo frowned, but still didn't look too pleased. "And what about the door and wires I'll have to replace for what you just destroyed?" he asked as Obi-wan began to set in some coordinates for the rendezvous for the system where he'd left the _Refracted Edge._

"Well," Obi-wan said distractedly, "you really should have thought about that before you decided to betray me. All of this would have worked out so much better if you hadn't turned on a Dark Jedi."

A small chuckle from Hondo. Obi-wan could feel him inching slowly towards the nearest control panel away from his captor. "Ah, but greed is in my nature."

"And if you move any further, severing your head from your body will be in mine," Obi-wan replied without turning around. Hondo froze.

"Jedi don't do things like that," he commented.

Obi-wan rolled his eyes as he pushed the lightspeed lever and saw the stars streak into the mottled existence that was hyperspace. Then he turned to Hondo, crossing his arms in front of him. He'd deactivated his lightsaber, but hadn't put it away. Thankfully, Hondo noticed this without Obi-wan having to practically wave it in his face.

"Jedi don't. I am no longer a Jedi."

"You just said you were."

Obi-wan was beginning to wonder if sparing the man had been worth it. "I was raised as a Jedi and trained as a Jedi, but as of right now I do not belong to the Order."

Hondo frowned. He still had a hand near the burn on his throat, but intelligently, wasn't rubbing at it.

"So a dark Jedi is one who leaves the Jedi Order?"

Obi-wan repressed a sigh. "Not necessarily. A dark Jedi is someone who was trained as a Jedi but later turns to the Dark side without joining the Sith."

That only seemed to confuse Hondo more. Why was Obi-wan humoring him? Perhaps to relieve _some_ of that black-hole of guilt that had formed in his heart? No, explaining the situation wouldn't do any of that. Perhaps he would need the man in the future and wished to part on somewhat decent terms? Had manipulation become so much a part of his nature that he'd simply fallen into it? Put Hondo at ease and he would have more options open to him later.

He really didn't want to process that (or anything else) right now.

"What is this 'dark side'?"

Obi-wan shook his head and took a seat, never taking his eyes off of the Weequay. "I don't wish to speak of it anymore. I answered your question. Now I suggest you keep quiet until we reach the planet."

Fortunately, the bandit did as he was told.

xXx

Obi-wan cut through the hull of the ship when they landed, much to Hondo's displeasure. The dark Jedi simply reminded him, yet again, that none of this would have happened if the bandit had stuck to his word before Obi-wan jumped out of the hole and rushed towards his ship. Hondo wouldn't be able to follow him into space, and he'd managed to set a coded lock-out for the pirate's ship, which gave him some time to get his own ship up and running. He had no doubt that they'd be able to break it, but it would take time.

Twenty minutes later, having successfully outrun the pirates, Obi-wan entered hyperspace.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that no one else had died.

xXx

Another one of my favorite chapters...I'm not a sadist, I swear!

Alright, a bit of a note for a few things in this chapter. Firstly, there are many, MANY ways of successfully governing a planet, and some of them may not be quite so conventional. For the purposes of this story, in all actuality, Sano could have cut ties with his planet politically and served as the Vice Chancellor, but due to some traditions, he would have more or less been ostracized/disowned by his planet unless they continued to hold elections as they would have otherwise felt he was not representing their planet as he should, even if it wasn't in an official capacity. So technically Sano holds the Vice-Chancellorship in conjunction with being a representative of Eeropha. He really doesn't do any work in that area and is more or less there as a place-holder, and Eeropha knows that he has to make decisions based on the Galaxy instead of just their planet. The thing is, when Obi-wan killed Sano, he more or less bumped the current Eeropha senator (the actual senator who was there to represent the planet) into Vice-Chancellorship (unless someone else is named by the Chancellor, traditionally it would fall to him-and in instances like this the Chancellor has previously called on other people to fill the capacity, but Obi-wan doesn't think that Palpatine will go against tradition at this point because it would make him even more unpopular with some of the planets that know about Eeropha's traditions and how it ties in with their political structure).

Basically I wanted it to be one huge, political mess. Hope I succeeded. ^^;

Also, we get to see Hondo and his crew. One of the more interesting reoccurring characters in the Clone Wars series, I have to say.

Thanks to Windona for being a great beta! Please give her love and kudos. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**_Summary: Obi-wan, caught by Ventress, wouldn't have fallen if the Sith Acolyte hadn't caught Anakin and tortured him in front of Obi-wan. In an effort to save him, Obi-wan gave into the darkness, killed Ventress, killed Dooku, and is now doing everything he can from the shadows to take down Sidious. This includes him training on Dathomir and planning something rather involved._**

Chapter 12

_Something I've noticed is that the further into the darkness one goes, the grayer everything looks. Eventually you can justify just about anything to yourself. I have to wonder if that is because one gets used to the darkness, or is it really all gray?_

Plo Koon rarely worried because worry meant that one feared something, and fear led to the dark side. And yet, he had no problem admitting that Anakin Skywalker worried him. The boy had taken to knighthood like a fish to water in many aspects. He had become an intelligent, well-respected general who thought outside of the box and had a drive that pushed him beyond his limits time and time again.

He had never been the calm, well-respected Jedi that the rest of the Council seemed to think he should be. He formed attachments all too easily (even to the clones under his command), he tended to act first and ask questions later and he seemed bound and determined to accomplish the impossible—but he was still young and had time to grow and learn.

Except lately he'd seemed so different from the lively boy that he'd always been before. Now he seemed tired and withdrawn. He still fulfilled his duties with a flair that bordered on the insane, but any other time he had an air of (dare he think it?) uncertainty about him. He had been that way since his supposed meeting with his former Master, and while everyone else seemed to chalk it up to the boy having a wake-up call, Plo didn't quite agree. Anakin had always been headstrong, and seeing that give way—and not at all in a good way—didn't sit well with him. Plo had witnessed the reactions of apprentices and former apprentices of Jedi who had fallen. More often then not, they all bore many indications of mental trauma. The Chosen One, it seemed, was not immune to this.

So he took the boy under his wing, so to speak, and began to request missions with him (and thankfully, he wasn't the only one). Still, he and Mace couldn't always assure their assignment with the knight, and so he had come to the conclusion that Anakin needed someone else, whether that someone relied on him or he relied on them, he needed support through this rather trying time in his life. Master Yoda agreed, and so they had hatched a plot.

And from the look on the boy's face, it would be well worth it. Sometimes the Jedi Master really appreciated the breathing apparatus that hid his mouth and other features. The younger years couldn't see him trying to hold back a laugh.

"What?!" Anakin asked in shock as he stared at the togruta youngling who had just introduced herself and then declared that she was to be Anakin's Padawan. "No, no, no, there must be some mistake. Master Plo here was the one who wanted a new Padawan."

The girl frowned ever so slightly and shook her head. "No, Master Yoda was very specific. I'm assigned to Anakin Skywalker and he is to supervise my Jedi training." She finished with a satisfied smile on her face. Then she turned sheepishly to the masked master. "Not that I wouldn't be honored to be your apprentice, Master Plo."

"Such words honor _me_," he responded warmly and returned the bow ever so slightly. She seemed so out of place amongst the normally cool tones of the planet, her red skin clashing with the local décor and causing her to stand out more than she otherwise would have. Yes, she would make a fine padawan for Anakin Skywalker.

The knight in question just stared at her for several seconds. "Master Yoda? But…why?"

Neither one of the other two Jedi seemed to be expecting such a question from the normally stoic young man and they exchanged glances.

"Why what?" the girl asked hesitantly.

Anakin seemed to realize who he'd been speaking to and blinked rapidly. "Oh, nothing," he said, his nonchalant attitude back in place. "Those droids will be back soon."

If they could have seen Master Plo's face, they would have seen him frowning. That was the most blatant topic change he'd almost ever seen. There was something here that needed to be addressed.

"Anakin," he said, "could you speak with me a moment."

The young man glanced uneasily at the master, his hands opening and closing subconsciously in nervousness. He really looked like he wanted to say no, but after a moment, to Plo's surprise, he nodded. The Jedi Master inclined his head in acknowledgement and led the knight a few yards away before turning back to face him.

"Anakin, I know there has been a mistake, but I have to ask, why you seem so hesitant to take the child on."

Anakin shook his head. "It really isn't anything."

But Plo knew better. "You may be able to trick your comrades into believing that, but please don't include me in that assumption."

He had to admit his worry grew when Anakin decided not to meet his eyes and tried to change the subject again instead. "I'm going to go check on Rex in the lookout station." He turned to walk away.

"It has to do with Obi-wan, doesn't it?"

The boy didn't stop or look back, but Plo refused to let this go.

"Are you afraid you'll end up leaving her the way he left you?"

That made him stop and whirl around angrily. "No! I would never leave anyone I care for like that!"

Plo raised an eyebrow in challenge. "So you are afraid you'll come to care for her?"

Anakin scowled. "Rex needs me."

"You're avoiding the question."

The boy turned to walk away again and Plo frowned. Normally he'd leave it at this point, but this wasn't something someone could just pretend didn't happen. He had a bad feeling that Anakin had been stubborn like this for far too long and too many things had gone ignored.

"You aren't him," he said. To his relief, Anakin froze one foot poised in the air. "You don't necessarily have his weaknesses and fearing you do will only continue to hurt you on a level that may not ever allow you to heal."

He at least seemed to think on that for a moment before he went to take another step further.

"At least take her with you," Plo asked, more worried than he thought he would be. This was worse than he thought.

Still, Anakin nodded ever so slightly and Plo felt a touch of relief. Then he turned to the girl who was watching them with more than a little trepidation.

"Follow him for now," he called out.

She didn't look too happy about whatever she my have managed to overhear, but she nodded and ran to catch up with Anakin. Plo watched them for a moment before shaking his head and turning away. He hadn't been the only one to warm towards Anakin. Mace Windu was a testament of that.

Still, this might be going too far too fast.

"I hope you're right, Master Yoda," he muttered to himself as he went to navigate through the rubble and check up on his own duties.

xXx

Obi-wan had taken to reading different theories on acting and what made a good actor. It wasn't the most fascinating thing he'd ever read, but it did give him the insight he was looking for.

Each of the beings hailed as the best actors in the universe seemed to have their own theory and method for acting. Most would research whoever they were trying to emulate, be it the race and species or the character or the historical figure, but after that it differed greatly. Some tried to put themselves in the shoes of the role they were playing. Others tried to look at things from the angle of their role and logically act in conclusion. Still others would hyper-analyze each and every little detail about the role and systematically try to come up with every plausible reaction. Still others would simply try to figure out what reaction they were going for and act accordingly.

It was the last one that appealed most to Obi-wan. He was intelligent enough to figure out what other people wanted most of the time, but he had rarely acted on the impulse to its full extent. Instead he had allowed his conscience to hold him to at least something honest and truthful. To act to a point where Mother Talzin, and consequently Sidious, wouldn't be able to see through everything he did, he would have to rid himself of that barrier…but he was reluctant to do so. His honesty with others was one of the few things of his old self that had survived his fall (alright, he hadn't _always _been honest, but he had always avoided lying unless he felt it had been necessary) and he knew if he gave that up that he would be taking a rather large leap further into the darkness.

But he could not come up with any other solution, no matter how he wracked his brain. To infiltrate the Senate, he had to learn to truly act—to become someone else entirely but keep his own goals and powers in mind.

And yet again, it all boiled down to Anakin. He'd already thrown his soul away for Anakin, and he would do so a hundred times over. So if it came down to his own morality versus Anakin's future, he knew exactly what he would do every time. Now he just needed to change his default reactions.

He sighed as he exited the _Refracted Edge_ and stepped into the diffused Dathomirian sunlight. He certainly had his work cut out for him.

"So you're finally back."

Obi-wan glanced over at the presence he'd felt since he'd entered the atmosphere. Savage Oppress (really, they needed to come up with more original names) stood near some trees at edge of the clearing Obi-wan had taken to landing in, watching him with scowl firmly in place. Surprisingly Feral wasn't with him.

"Indeed," Obi-wan replied off-handedly and turned to head through the underbrush towards the settlement.

"It's been weeks," the Zabarak said as he fell into step beside the former Jedi.

Obi-wan frowned over at his companion. "I have my own goals to keep."

"What are they?"

The older man raised his eyebrow but otherwise looked unimpressed. "Why do you wish to know?" He was really asking why the boy thought he even had the right to ask, but Savage didn't seem to realize that. Then again he really wasn't the brightest candle on the cake. Not stupid, per se, but not necessarily a thinker either.

"Because I don't trust you."

Obi-wan contemplated that for a few minutes. "You are wiser than I gave you credit for," he commented absently, rubbing his chin.

The Zabarak's eyes narrowed threateningly. "You intend to—"

The former Jedi shot his temporary companion a dry look and cut him off. "Please. It is in the nature of anyone aligned with the dark to be untrustworthy. However, no, I do not intend to renege on my deal with you. I was simply pointing out that your actions are prudent."

He paused for a moment. "Where is your brother? I could use a good spar." Two on one might get his mind off of things he really didn't want to think about. Sometimes he wondered why he couldn't just shut the thought processes off. It seemed like his mind was always trying to draw conclusions and connections. As a Jedi, he'd been able to calm that tendency, but as a Dark Jedi, he found the process becoming more and more difficult.

Savage grit his teeth and looked away.

"He's hunting."

And Savage was lying. Really it wasn't that difficult to put it all together. Savage had been acting strangely for him, actually initiating and engaging in conversation…so why…?

And then it clicked and Obi-wan rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"They took him, didn't they?"

Savage looked at him sharply, a slightly panicked glint to his eyes. Before he could deny it, though, Obi-wan held up a hand.

"Who?"

Savage grit his teeth and refused to look away, eyes staring stubbornly into Obi-wan's.

"Savage…" his tone was warning, but not one of physical pain. It was more of an 'it would be intelligent to tell me so I can help you' kind of warning that he'd practiced on Anakin. He wondered if it came across like that now.

Apparently, Savage seemed to sense his intentions or simply realized that there was little he could do about it now, because he answered. "The Nightsisters."

"And I assume they told you to interrogate me for information in exchange for his life. I also presume that you were told not to tell me any of this."

His frustrated silence was all the answer Obi-wan needed. So they'd gotten word of the former Jedi training the two brothers and had decided to test his emotional connection to them. This had to be one of the 'tests' Viscral had told him about. They'd also included mild torture, survival on the planet without his lightsaber, strength endurance, physical endurance and just about anything else they could do. This would be the first time they'd really tried to test his emotions.

So now he had two options: he could let them kill Feral, or he could go and rescue the boy.

He knew which answer they would want him to give. They'd given him a test in every sense of the word, and if he wished to pass, he would have to give them the answer that they were looking for. They'd want him to ignore that it ever happened, think of himself and simply continue on. Undoubtedly they knew of some sort of deal between the three of them and they wanted him to go back on it.

Because if he went after Feral, then it would be allowing his emotions and attachment, no matter how insignificant compared to the other attachments he had in his life, to rule him.

Except they'd be wrong. Firstly, he didn't want to go back on his word. He was determined to keep something light in his ever-changing personality, no matter how insignificant or obstructive, because otherwise he wasn't sure he would be able to continue to help Anakin. So he wished to keep what integrity he'd had. He had said he'd help the boys, and then he'd given them a promise and, as he had told Savage, he had no intention of going back on his word.

Secondly, Feral wasn't a weakling. He was decently strong and Obi-wan didn't wish to lose an ally. Savage was stronger and more easily manipulated, but only if his brother was there. True, Obi-wan was sure he could spin some sort of revenge scheme if the boy died, but getting Feral back would put both of them in his debt…and he could use that.

Thirdly, well, he did have to admit that there was some sort of protective instinct there. It was apparently in Obi-wan's very nature, whether light or dark, to protect those around him, but it wasn't the driving point. He could argue this if it came down to it as well.

"Well, it would seem we'll have to go and demand his return," Obi-wan said to Savage and turned to head into the forest. He knew approximately where the Nightsister's base was. Besides, this would be a good test of his progress. He would suppress his Force Presence and see if he could hide from Talzin.

"What?" Savage asked him, his voice heavy with shock.

Obi-wan glanced at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "I believe you heard me."

"But why?"

"Because I promised," Obi-wan replied simply. "Besides, I would like to have a bit of a conversation with his captors, and this is a good excuse."

"Excuse?" the Zabarak's voice had gained a tinge of anger and defense.

Obi-wan waved his concerns away with his hand. "Don't worry. If anything befalls your brother, I will pay them back twofold."

"Because you promised?" It almost amused Obi-wan that the being sounded so confused.

"Yes."

For some reason the usual silence that seemed to accompany Savage seemed far more thoughtful that day.

xXx

Obi-wan stopped and held his hand up in a fist to signal for a company halt. It took him a moment to realize that he'd already fallen back into the role of a General. Savage either recognized his sign or took his sudden stop as enough of a signal to pause too.

"We can't go any further without chancing being spotted," he whispered quietly. Savage frowned but nodded.

"Can you suppress your Force Signature?" Obi-wan asked.

Savage's scowl seemed just slightly puzzled, as if he were questioning why such a thing would ever be necessary and shook his head in a negative.

"I see. Perhaps that is something you and your brother should work on." He really tried to keep the dryness out of his voice, but wasn't sure how successful he was as Savage didn't seem to give him any indication other than his usual disdainful expression.

"How many Nightsisters do you think you can fight off at once?"

Obi-wan had thought that Savage only had two moods: Angry and protective. He was proven wrong when the man's expression turned rather wry. Obi-wan had to wonder if Savage simply looked so negative all the time because of the black tattoos all over his face and body. It seemed to be some sort of local tradition because Feral had some as well and so did many of the others. He had to wonder if this planet was where the Sith he'd killed on Naboo came from as well.

"However many I need to," Savage said, his voice like gravel.

Despite himself, Obi-wan found he was impressed with the answer. It reminded him of something he would have said. He wasn't sure exactly what to think of that.

"Good," he replied, "because you're going to have to stay alive long enough for me to sneak past everyone."

Savage blinked at him, expression surprised.

"You go in, make as much noise as possible. They might even be expecting you. Try not to get captured, but I need the biggest distraction you can give me."

The Zabarak's eyes narrowed slightly. "How do I know you will not simply leave me to be captured?"

Obi-wan wanted to sigh. Okay, he really wanted to stab Savage through the gut with his lightsaber just to be done with it, but he also knew the boy's paranoia was probably what would keep him alive. That didn't make it any easier to deal with.

"You have a point," he finally said and made to turn around. "Let's just forget the whole thing."

"What about your promise?" Savage asked angrily.

Obi-wan paused and turned around, face deadpan. He didn't care if he looked condescending. The Zabarak really needed to start using that brain of his.

"Precisely," Obi-wan said after a moment. "You've followed me this far, but it seems we have reached a branching point. Choose whether you believe me or not, because if you do not, our chances of living through this, let alone getting your brother back, are greatly diminished."

Savage's brow furrowed together as he studied the slightly shorter man before him.

"I don't have a choice," he finally said. "If I try to rescue him alone, I will die. If I don't, he will die. The only way we both have a shot at living is by trusting you."

Again, Obi-wan found himself impressed. His argument was logical and he seemed to have thought it out.

"Well then," the former Jedi said with a shrug, "trust me. Now, rush in there like you're in a rage. Draw as much attention as possible. I will need a minimum of ten minutes." If the Force was with them, that would do. If not...

"I'll get you thirty."

Obi-wan almost smiled at that.

"Good. Go."

With a nod and a determined set to his face, Savage turned and ran into the trees in the direction of the Nightsister base, screaming and yelling as loudly as he could, crashing through the underbrush like a baby rancor.

Obi-wan waited for about a minute before he followed, although he took to the trees and while his pace was fast, he went through the forest as silently as a wraith.

xXx

Sneaking by the sisters keeping watch wasn't difficult, especially when they were distracted. At the four minute mark, he passed Savage who had engaged several women. He was managing to hold his own, but only barely. Even at the distance from which he saw the skirmish, Obi-wan could tell the women were playing with the Zabarak. He was fine with that, as long as they continued to play and kept their focus away from the Dark Jedi.

At the eight minute mark, he found Feral trussed up in the center of a long, jagged clearing set before an ominous, gaping hole leading into the large mountain that rose over the whole scene, casting it in shadow. Not that there was much direct light for shadows to exist. The atmosphere saw to that.

Not for the first time, Obi-wan realized just how much he disliked this planet. His opinion towards Dathomir wasn't strong enough to classify as 'hate' just yet, but it was rapidly descending.

A rather substantial part of his diminishing opinion would have to be the Nightsisters and Nightbrothers and their attitude towards him. The sisters saw him as a tool to be used while the brothers saw him as an outsider to be feared at best, usurper at worst. The only real exception to that was trussed up in the center of the pathway leading to the opening (which Obi-wan assumed was part of the Nightsister's base).

The vague, misty shadows played with the air in slow swirls, blurring the lines between vegetation and ground to the unaccustomed eye. Anything could be hiding there, especially if they could suppress their Force signature. It screamed 'trap' so obviously that Obi-wan couldn't help but glower at their opinion of him. He was positive Feral had been set out like this for him and not Savage. This was, after all, his test.

As a Jedi, he would have gone in as quietly as possible and would have tried to rescue the boy at a close range. Doing anything else would boarder on 'casual use of the Force' or at least dependence on the Force. At this point, though, the 'anything else' he had in mind would be the most prudent. Besides, it wasn't like he had any other masters he had to answer to, and no Padawan to stick to the rules for.

He tried to ignore how much that hurt (despite the fact that he'd brought up the argument to rationalize his next actions) and reached out with the Force to nudge at Feral. He didn't seem to be harmed in any way, because the young Zabarak opened his eyes and looked around in puzzlement.

At that point, Obi-wan focused on the bands holding him to the pole he'd been tied to and broke them a part. Feral slumped forward and looked at his wrists disbelievingly.

"Come on, Run," Obi-wan hissed under his breath, even going so far as to nudge the boy away from the mountain. Feral looked up and glanced around for a moment before he caught on and began to run towards the forest.

Before he even took three steps, though, he rose into the air, grasping at his throat.

Obi-wan frowned and glanced towards the mountain. Where before there had only been empty air and mist, Mother Talzin now stood next to Viscral under the arch that served as a gateway to the hole in the side of the rock. Then, much to his annoyance, Talzin turned and looked directly at him.

"Come out, little Jedi," Viscral called out.

Seeing little point in keeping hidden, Obi-wan dropped out of the tree he'd stationed himself in and onto the moss below. Taking his time, he stood slowly and stepped into the rocky clearing.

As soon as he did, Viscral shook his head. "Still taking pity, I see."

Obi-wan shrugged. "I had my reasons."

"And they are?"

"My own."

Viscral glanced at Talzin, his gaze ever so uncertain for the slightest moment before he turned with full confidence back to the human standing in front of them.

"Not good enough. He dies."

Obi-wan frowned and glanced up at Feral, who seemed to be breathing heavily (but still breathing, for now). "He's still useful to me."

"Oh? How?" This time it was Talzin who spoke in that strange, multiple voice of hers.

"For this, he and his brother will owe me," Obi-wan shrugged. "They already owe me for training them."

Mother Talzin smiled. It did nothing to improve her features. "Gathering your allies?"

Again, Obi-wan shrugged. "From a certain point of view."

For a moment nothing but a slow breeze broke through the clearing, not even doing much to stir the trees. Finally, after a tense moment, Feral dropped to the damp ground, coughing and sputtering. Talzin never took her eyes from Obi-wan, who hadn't moved.

"You have improved greatly," she said, "but still not enough."

Obi-wan frowned. "How could you sense me?"

Talzin looked thoughtful for a moment. "Every presence causes ripples."

"Yes," Obi-wan replied, "but when one hides their signature, it eliminates those ripples."

Talzin just sighed and shook her head. "You equate the ripples in the Force as a stone thrown into a pond and the disturbance on the water's surface. The ripples I speak of come from those creatures that live in the water. The water will always be displaced, whether ripples from movement are felt or not. There is always proof of your existence…and your presence is not so small that you can hide it that easily."

Obi-wan frowned as he thought over that for a moment.

After a few minutes, when Feral's breathing had returned to a semi-normal state, Talzin snapped her fingers. Immediately, a Nightsister appeared at her side, mist whirling wildly.

"Inform the others to stand down. The intruders will leave."

"Yes, Mother," the woman said with a bow of her head before she vanished back into the tree tops, leaving another trail of churning mist in her wake.

"Feral," Obi-wan said tersely. Then, with one last thoughtful glare shot at Talzin and Viscral—neither of which had moved—he turned on his heels and strode into the trees towards where he could feel Savage's presence.

Three hours later, they returned to the village in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

xXx

A.N. In my defense, I thought I'd already posted this. ^^; And about 4 chapters afterwords... *ahem*

I've begun to think that my Dark!Obi-wan isn't...well, dark enough. What do you think? Is there any way in the story that you would think I could make him seem darker? Or is he falling at a slow, but believable pace?

Oh, and thank Windona for being seriously awesome and beta-reading this, being a fabulous sounding board, and just being plain awesome.


	13. Chapter 13

_I was alarmed at how easily I could find supposedly secret Republic bases if I knew where to look for information. It didn't take me long to realize who was behind the leaks and how the breaches stayed out of sight of the Jedi and the Clones. It was just one more reason to resent the Sith and end his miserable existence._

Anakin Skywalker was an enigma. When Ahsoka had first learned that she would be placed with him, she had been beyond excited. Not only would she get to finish her Jedi Training, but it would be with one of the great heroes of the war!

Meeting him had been a bit of a disappointment. It had hurt when she'd found that he didn't want her. But then, after they'd destroyed the shield on Christophsis, he'd accepted her and the excitement had returned in full force.

After that, she'd begun to really get to know her new Master…and that was when she realized that she couldn't make sense of what she found.

Master Skywalker was nothing short of severely aggressive in battle, both in strategy and in his way of fighting. He seemed to take form V to the next level and fought with a single-mindedness that bordered on fury.

When he spoke with her, especially one-on-one, he presented only a slightly different picture. He softened and seemed to be happy to teach by example. He wasn't severe, although he was strict in his own right, and he projected a calm confidence that was nothing short of inspiring.

But every now and then, when he thought she wasn't looking or when something particularly difficult came to light, she would see him slump down on himself, as if the weight of the universe had fallen on his shoulders. In those moments, he would simultaneously look both old and young—too old to be carrying such a burden, and too young to be able to do anything about it. It almost seemed to Ahsoka as if he had lost his support.

In those moments, the man she glimpsed seemed so unlike his usual self. He would be uncertain and worried, seeming to find fault in anything he'd done and self-recriminating. She couldn't understand how he could give such a different face to the world. How he could take her suggestion to go and find Master Plo after the Separatist secret weapon had hit the fleet and do everything he could to help find the other Jedi and seem so sure of himself, but quietly question his own choices under his breath after they returned.

She'd known her Master was one of a kind, but she hadn't realized just how different he would be, because what she'd come to know of him was nothing like the Jedi she'd envisioned. Recently, she'd begun to think that losing his Master (practically twice in a row) had broken him, because such a lost look would come to his eyes every time Master Kenobi was mentioned.

It didn't take her long to decide that she would help to put him back together. She would become his support and he could lean on her whenever he needed to. To that end, she stepped up her training, bound and determined to be the best Jedi she could possibly be, if only so her Master didn't have to walk through his life alone.

Which meant she was more than a little worried to see him run off the bridge of their star destroyer to rescue the Senator who had been taken hostage aboard the _Malevolence_, refusing any help.

"Wait, Master!" she said after him, but the door had already closed. She turned to look at Master Plo Koon, who stood by her side, looking at the door that had closed behind Ahsoka's master. The Admiral who had brought the fleet on the order of the Jedi Council to attack the ship (Ahsoka hadn't been introduced to him by name yet) also watched the door with a troubled expression.

"Shouldn't someone go with him?" she asked.

"One of us does need to stay here with the ship," Master Plo said in his ever calm voice (which seemed all that much calmer in the face of Ahsoka's worry).

"Then I'm going with him," Ahsoka said determinedly and moved to follow her master, but a clawed hand stopped her gently.

"He told you to stay here. You should follow your Master's orders."

And when he put it like that…. It didn't mean she had to like it. "Yes, Master," she said grudgingly. She would follow her orders, but something told her that her Master would need backup.

"However, if someone who outranks your master gave you an order…" Master Plo said thoughtfully.

Ahsoka blinked, not daring to hope that he meant what she thought he meant. She couldn't stop her eyes from lighting up when she glanced up at him though. Now she was sure that under that mask he was grinning.

"Go. Watch his back."

"Yes, Master," she said, far more sincerely this time. "Thank you, Master." And with that, she hurried out of the bridge and after her Master.

xXx

Obi-wan hated being out of the loop. He didn't have any genuine knowledge on where anyone was at any given moment in time, and that irked him to no end. It bothered him because he feared that he would not be where he needed to be when he needed to be and that someone he cared for would die.

Someone like Anakin.

So when he'd heard breaking news that a Separatist secret weapon had been engaged and was fleeing from a Republic group, he'd immediately left in hopes that he could be of some help. He'd been fortunate enough to be within a couple of parsecs of the supposed battle, and so he had apologized to his contact and left.

He'd gone to the general area of Naboo, near where he knew a spaceport had been planned at some point in the past, and had been lucky enough to catch an ion trail that would lead him in the general direction of the fleet. It was only then that he'd sensed Anakin's presence and realized his former Padawan was near. That only succeeded in putting him on edge all the more.

Fortunately, he had upgraded the engines in the _Refracted Edge_ himself and had overseen all of the work he hadn't personally been a part of. His ship could catch up if he pushed it. And so he did.

After what felt like far too long, he reached the battle only to find what looked like an enormous, flaming ship (and how could it flame like that without venting? There must be some amazing shields on that ship) and three silent, Republic star destroyers.

No one seemed to be ready to pay attention to him…at least not until he got a hail from one of the republic cruisers.

"Unidentified shuttle, this is General Plo Koon of the Republic Fleet. You have entered restricted space. Please identify yourself."

Obi-wan's first instinct was to respond, but he stamped on it harshly. He had no real reason to be this deep in space other than to make sure his Padawan was safe, so he forced himself to ignore the signal and kept moving.

"Unidentified shuttle, you have been warned. If you do not halt immediately and identify yourself, we will be forced to open fire."

Obi-wan considered calling them and giving them some sort of excuse, but in the end figured that just ignoring them and pushing his engines to their maximum capacity would be his best bet. The enormous ship was coming up fast…and he could sense Anakin on it! What in blazes was that boy doing?! Now he really had to get to that ship.

A flare in the Force had him ducking the hail of blaster fire that peppered space where he'd been just moments before. The fire continued to hound him, but he found that dodging it was not too much of a problem. Really, they needed to get better shooters if they wanted to win the war.

He hadn't known what he would do when he'd shown up here. He'd figured he could fly interference or something supportive like that, but now he had to get _onto_ the Separatist ship…

And he found the perfect opening in what looked like an abandoned dock. The droids must be focused on fixing the ship…or destroyed, from the looks of it. He hadn't had any indication of the droids noticing him in any case. Sometimes they could be particularly incompetent. It really made no sense to Obi-wan.

He passed through the shield and landed easily, grabbing his lightsaber and rushing out of there in seconds, leaving most of the landing processes undone. Before he'd left the bay, he'd destroyed over a dozen droids. He wouldn't let such trivial things stop him. Now to find Anakin.

xXx

Ahsoka concentrated as hard as she could; trying to levitate the Senator's droid out of the train it had fallen into. Her master had already taken care of the Senator, so now it was up to her…

She realized just a moment too late that she wouldn't be able to move it out of the way of an oncoming train between her and the track the droid had been on. Of course, the train plowed right into the poor droid and whizzed it away in the other direction.

She winced and sighed. Great. Another failure to report to her Master. Maybe she shouldn't have tagged along. But someone needed to watch his back, and he'd been so…jumpy since they'd landed. Even more so in the last few minutes. He'd paused for a moment, and then he'd gotten a look on his face, like he knew something but couldn't remember it. When she'd asked him what was wrong, he'd told her it was nothing, that he'd thought he'd felt something but it was gone now. She hadn't been sure he was being honest with her. He tended to hide things, probably to spare her feelings or to protect her somehow, but part of her also thought that maybe he wasn't being honest with himself too? She wasn't sure what gave her that idea.

Still, putting off reporting to him wouldn't help the situation, no matter her misgivings.

"Master, I lost the Senator's droid. I'm sorry. It's on a train heading in your direction."

A sigh came over the COM as the Senator's voice said "3PO!"

"I'll take care of it," Anakin said. "I'll meet you back at the _Twilight_."

"No," the Senator protested. "We can't leave yet. I overheard Grievous. Their hyperdrive is almost repaired."

Ahsoka did a quick calculation in her head and her spirits lifted. This was her chance to show her Master what she could really do!

"Don't worry, Master," she said into her wrist com. "I'm already heading that way. I'll take care of it!"

"Ahsoka, no! Wait!" But Ahsoka was already bounding across the train towards the head.

"Don't worry, Master," she said with a smile. "I can do this."

A pause. "I'm not sure about this, Snips."

"Trust me, Master," she said. She could take out a few droids and disable the engines while she was at it. It would be a piece of cake."

"Alright, but don't take on more than you can chew."

A high-pitched giggle followed that. "That doesn't sound like you, Ani."

"Ha, ha," Anakin said grudgingly.

"Don't worry, Master," Ahsoka said. "I remember the schematics we got from the scans. This'll be easy."

A sour harrumph met her declaration. "You had to go and jinx it."

xXx

Ahsoka couldn't help but pale from her normal reddish-brown to almost a pink as she looked around the enormous engine room that she'd walked into not seconds before. There had been two guards at the station and it had looked like it would go just as she'd planned…

And then droids of all types had poured out of just about every door to the room, leaving her trapped and in the midst of a veritable army.

"I had to jinx it," she muttered her master's words, very much disliking the irony of them.

"Did you really think I would leave the hyperdrive unguarded, Jedi?" a harsh, mechanical voice asked. Ahsoka gulped and whirled around as the commander of the droid army, General Grievous himself, landed in front of the now closed doorway she'd just come through.

"Heh," she forced a laugh. "Maybe?"

The general just laughed his harsh, guttural laugh and pointed at her. "Kill—" he started, but a pounding on the door behind them cut him off.

"What?" Grievous asked.

Then the world fell into darkness. At least that's what it felt like to Ahsoka. She gasped and fell to her knees, clutching at her chest. Cold…why did it feel so cold all of a sudden?

The groaning grew louder.

"Someone's opening the door," one of the droids commented.

"How?" Grievous demanded.

"Uh, not sure," the droid responded. "We locked it from the inside and the controls are over there." He pointed to a console manned by several confused-looking droids.

"Then stop it!" the General commanded threateningly.

Ahsoka heard all of this as if through a haze or a thick fog. It all seemed so surreal and the Force felt so strange. She couldn't get warm and it seemed so wild and she did not like it at all. What was happening? And what was that she felt through it all…a presence? She'd never felt anything like it (and truthfully never wished to again).

Then, with a great screeching of metal on metal, the door opened, not fully, but a good meter at least. Then the cold backed away and the young togruta felt like she could breathe again. After a few seconds, she looked up. The figure they saw standing on the other side of the door seemed to gaze into the room with a sort of curious anticipation. He also, Ahsoka noticed in surprise, had a deactivated lightsaber in his hand.

"Who are you?" Grievous seethed.

The figure didn't answer.

"Another Jedi? Kill her! I'll take care of this one."

Ahsoka tensed and her eyes widened. She jumped into the air before any of the droids could shoot her. Several tried. She landed behind the destroyer droids and jumped behind the console that sat at the edge of the platform. It wasn't exactly the safest place to be seeing as she had about a third of a meter of metal between her and a long fall to the reactor core, but it gave her some protection.

When no droids followed her, she chanced a peek around the side, and her mouth dropped at what she saw. Over half of the droids had already been taken out and the other half were quick to follow. The new Jedi, one she did not recognize, had force-pushed the destroyer droids along the catwalks in either direction, clearing them both. The third he sent towards Grievous. The general caught it and threw it away before drawing a blaster and focusing it on the Jedi, who deflected each bolt with seeming ease.

Figuring that her best chance to disable the hyperdrive was now, when Grievous was distracted, she looked around for her target. She found it a few seconds later, off to the side and down a level. It was ray-shielded, of course, so she would have to find a way to get through that. It showed no signs of being damaged, but that was usual with large ships that had problems with their hyperdrive. Usually damage and problems came with the system that kept the hyperdrive cool or the one that connected with the ship's other functions. At least as far as she knew.

This, of course, all meant that she would have to start climbing down the shaft. There were catwalks skirting the shaft on either side that led to doors a few feet away in either direction. For a few moments, she hesitated, but then she realized that she have time to find a safer way down. Steeling herself, she reached out to the Force (the light, calm and warm, not the wild, cold and dark) and jumped. The shaft had to be a good forty meters wide. She'd jumped larger distances, but only when she'd been able to concentrate and had silence and not some weird thing happening to the Force. Her leap was only slightly too short, but she was able to reach out and grab the ledge of the catwalk at least.

A few droids came through the doors as she lifted herself onto the catwalk (of course), probably sent to protect the hyperdrive. She was blocked from one side by the hyperdrive itself, a large, cylindrical tube in sections that stretched down into the shaft and connected to several pipes a good dozen or so meters below. She defended herself from the droids and took a page out of the new Jedi's book by pushing them back and away from her. Several of them fell into the shaft and the rest were shoved back through the doorway. Ahsoka jumped onto the catwalk, reached over and palmed it shut before shoving her lightsaber into the control panel, hoping that would give her some more time.

After that, she made short work of the ray shields by cutting through their generators. The next minute had her slashing through the hyperdrive itself. When she felt she had caused enough damage, she stopped and commed Master Skywalker.

"Master," she said. "Master, come in."

"Ahsoka!" Master Skywalker's relieved voice said to her.

"The hyperdrive has been disabled," she said, happy to report a successful mission.

"Good job, Snips. Has the—" he cut off as what sounded like blaster fire started in the background, cutting him off.

"Master, what's wrong?"

"Some droids found us. How are you?"

"Uh," she looked around and assessed her situation. Above her she could still hear Grievous and the other Jedi fighting. To one side sat a catwalk full of droids. To the other, a door that would probably be jammed open soon enough. If she jumped, she would be caught by the droid's fire on the other side. "Well, I'm not hurt."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Well, I sort of…walked into a trap."

"You what?!"

She winced at his tone. "Grievous was here and everything," she confirmed. May as well confess now and give him some time to cool down. "But then a Jedi I've never met before came in and distracted him. He also took out most of the droids, which allowed me to complete my mission."

For some reason she did not like the silence that met her declaration. "Master?"

"A Jedi you've never met," he said in a strangely neutral voice. "Describe him to me."

She nodded, despite knowing that her master couldn't see her. "He's average height and build for a human. I couldn't see much under his hood. Normal clothes, easy to move in, but not Jedi robes, and he wields a blue lightsaber."

Another pause had Ahsoka wondering if they'd jammed her comm. Then her Master spoke again.

"Stay away from him, Ahsoka. Get out of there and back to the _Twilight, now._"

Something about his tone really worried her. She nodded again. "Yes, Master. As soon as I can. Ahsoka out."

She looked around again, trying to figure out something she could do to get out of the situation she so willingly gotten herself into. Then she saw an uneven part of the wall above her where a ventilation shaft stuck out slightly. If she could get a hold of that, she might be able to get the height she'd need to get back onto the platform and then through one of those doors. It was either that, face the droids she knew were piling up behind the door nearest to her, or jump down towards the reactor. She didn't much care for any of the options, but of the three of them, she liked the first best.

Clipping her lightsaber to her belt, she gauged the distance to the shaft and jumped, using the Force to aid her. She reached it easily. Now came the harder part of lifting herself onto it. It wouldn't be easy as there were only a few inches coming out from the wall. Still, with a little maneuvering and a lot of Force usage, she managed to gain a foothold. Then she stuck her lightsaber into the wall as high as she could reach and used it for leverage. It was precarious at best, but it got the job done, and she managed to stand straight against the wall.

Then she took a deep breath, knowing this would probably be the hardest part. Calming herself like the crèche masters taught her, she reached out and coaxed the Force to her, listening to its calming waves.

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and jumped.

"There she is! Blast her!" she heard one of the droids say. Reaching out, she grabbed the landing platform. The edge cut into her hand, but she numbed the feeling and dismissed it from her mind with a great deal of practice. Then she did her best to deflect the shots coming towards her.

She knew she wouldn't last long like this, but couldn't see her way out of the situation. If only she'd been able to jump just a little higher…

No, that wouldn't help her. Below, the reactor core flared and she tried to swallow, but her mouth remained dry. She deflected a few more bolts and one of them even got a droid. It fell over the side of the shaft, but this did little to help her. The other droids didn't so much as pause in their shooting. And why not? They were undoubtedly programmed to keep pressing an offensive.

Her hand started to slip and she couldn't help but cry out. More blaster bolts came her way and she did her best to deflect them, but her concentration was shot. One of the bolts slipped past her guard and burned through her shoulder. She screamed out in pain and her arm convulsed, losing the lightsaber. Then, to her horror, the fingers of the other hand slipped the last little bit.

For a moment the world froze and she could see everything in hyper detail; the scrapes on the metal, the lack of dirt and grease in the crevices—signs of a new ship; the shape of the platform as it began to slip away. A hexagram. Why had they decided to use that shape? Her mind wondered…and then everything sped up.

She reached out with another strangled cry, expecting to only grab air, but her arm hit something. Instinctively, her hand closed around whatever it was and her body jerked to a stop, her shoulder screaming in protest. Blinking rapidly, she also realized that the droids had stopped firing at her. Glancing down, she realized that the catwalk where they'd all gathered now stood clear with the exception of a few scattered pieces and a blaster.

Surprised, she looked up and found the face of a man looking back at her worriedly. His head was still hidden by the hood, but the light from the reactor core below allowed her to see his features rather clearly. He didn't look a day over 35, although he did look like he hadn't eaten in a while. His cheeks had a hollowness to them that a scruffy beard barely hid and his skin seemed sallow and pale. Two long scars ran from the bottom of his cheek to disappear around the side of his neck, each only emphasized by the scruff. Almost everything else was hidden by the hood and collar.

What really got to her, though, were those eyes. She couldn't make out their color, even with the light from below, but what she did see was the strangest mixture of sorrow and relief she'd ever seen. Somehow she suspected that those eyes rarely held any life and that this man lived for those times when he could get some form of emotion back into them.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice strangely smooth. She'd expected it to be rough and harsh.

"Yes, thank you," she replied.

"Did they shoot you?"

She blinked at his concern. This was the man her Master had warned her against? Perhaps it was a different person he was thinking of?

"Yes. And I lost my lightsaber."

"You mean this?" the man asked with a raised eyebrow that made him look wry and amused all at once. Then he held up a very familiar cylinder in his other hand. She couldn't help but just stare in shock.

"You should be more careful with it. This weapon is your life."

How had he done that? When had he done that? Why had he done that? Just who was this man? Before she could say anything, though, he shook his head and sighed. "Come on, little one. Let's get you up here."

He lifted her onto the edge of the platform and helped her onto it before handing her lightsaber back to her.

"Thank you," she said softly, still in shock as she looked around at the scattered droid parts. "But…where's Grievous?"

And then Ahsoka could see a dangerous person in the man as his expression darkened and he glanced towards one of the doors.

"He escaped."

_I'm glad he seems to be on my side,_ she couldn't help but think.

Then he looked back at her, his expression resigned. "I had a choice between going after him and saving you. I don't think Anakin would forgive me if I let a fellow Jedi die. Fear not, though. The next time I meet Grievous, he won't be getting away."

She ignored that last sentence and the shivers it sent up and down her spine. Instead she focused on the way he'd said 'Anakin'. It made her think that he knew her Master rather well.

"Who are you?" she finally asked after gathering her courage for a few moments.

The expression he shot her was so sad she could almost feel it. "It is of little consequence."

"You saved my life."

He smiled, although it held little mirth.

"Just think of me as a friend, for now."

"A friend?"

"Yes. And…could you deliver a message to Anakin from me?"

She couldn't help but frown ever so slightly, still wary around this man. He wasn't someone to take lightly.

"Why don't you deliver it yourself?" she asked.

The man sighed. "I fear he won't listen to me."

Ahsoka studied the man for a few minutes. He seemed so withdrawn and tense and tired, and the pleading in his eyes…how could he switch between such deep, heart-wrenching emotions so quickly?

"What is this message?"

"Ask him if he's told them about Tatooine yet. He'll know what I mean. If he doesn't answer or says 'no' then tell him that unless he wishes to end up like me, he will have to take a step forward and learn to trust the people around him. When he denies that what I say is true, tell him that he doesn't. He only trusts three people right now: Himself, the Chancellor and the woman who helped free him, Padmé Amidala."

"Free him?" Ahsoka asked, feeling utterly confused. Her arm throbbed painfully but she tried to think through the sensation.

The man sighed. "Ask Anakin."

She ran through everything the man had told her again and couldn't help but bristle slightly. "Why doesn't he trust me then?" Ahsoka asked defensively. "I'm his Padawan!"

For a moment the man just blinked at her as if he couldn't comprehend her words. Then he slumped as if a weight that usually lay on the broad shoulders had lifted and a light of joy came to his eyes.

"You are? He took a Padawan? Good job, Anakin." He said that last part more to himself than he did to her. "I'm so proud of you."

"What?" Ahsoka asked more confused than ever.

Before he could answer, though, the ship gave a shuttering lurch.

"I'm afraid our time here is at an end," the man said, rising to his feet and reaching down to help her up. She accepted the hand almost without thought and had to wonder why she felt like she could trust this obviously dangerous person.

Whatever the case, Ahsoka couldn't help but agree with his assessment. "We have to get back to the ship. I'm sure Master Skywalker will take you to safety."

"No, little one," the man said with a sad shake of his head. "I need to head towards the hangar bays. Don't worry, he'll wait for you, but you'd better run. Are you still able to fight?"

"Of course," Ahsoka responded, slightly offended. Yes her shoulder hurt, but that didn't mean she couldn't move it, or that she couldn't fight with her other hand (not as well, but that was beside the point) which would be more than enough for a couple of bolt-headed droids.

"Good. I'm counting on you to get that message to Anakin. Can you remember it all?"

"Yes," she responded, a little more hesitantly this time, not because she'd have a problem remembering what he'd asked her to say, but because she'd agreed to relay his message to begin with. There was something she'd missed here and she did not like making decisions when she didn't have all of the information.

"Good," he said again, a firm nod to his head. "Now, the landing bays are in the same direction from here as your rendezvous with your Master, I believe."

"How do you know that?" Ahsoka blurted.

The man just looked at the door with an expression she couldn't read. "Because I can feel him. Come on, let's go, before the droids come back."

"Wait," Ahsoka said as she took off after him. "Why did Grievous retreat? It doesn't make any sense!"

"Because he had other matters to attend to."

"Other matters?"

"A droid reported that the Republic ships had begun to fire on this ship again. I'm betting Anakin reported the mission as a success and they decided to press their offense."

"But we're still here!"

"They know you and the others are on their way out. As soon as the firing started back up, and with you destroying the hyperdrive beyond repair, I believe that Grievous has given this ship up as a lost cause."

From what Ahsoka knew of the General, she could see that. He pressed his advantage and somehow had a canny sense for when he needed to retreat.

"So he just left this ship?"

"That would be my guess."

"Oh."

They ran for several more minutes, Ahsoka lost in her own thoughts and trying to wrap her mind around everything that had happened.

"So, um…sir?"

"What?" the man asked, peeking at her over his shoulder.

"What do I call you?"

He seemed to contemplate her for a few moments before he turned and looked ahead again. The light obstructed her view of his eyes again and so she couldn't read his expression that way and he wasn't readable through the Force, so she had no clue as to what he was thinking.

"Ben."

"Alright…Ben," she said. Somehow that struck her as a very strange name for this man. "So, do you know my Master?"

Again, he hesitated before answering.

"Yes."

"Well when did you meet him then?"

"Several years ago," he answered, his voice still uneasy. "On a planet called Tatooine."

"Really? What was he doing there? He had to be a Padawan at the time, right?"

"Oh for the Force's sake, you ask more questions than Anakin did! That is quite the accomplishment, you know."

"So he asked you a lot of questions? I knew it! You did know him when he was a Padawan."

Another pause. "From a certain point of view."

Ahsoka shook her head, clutching her arm to her chest even tighter in frustration. This man danced around her questions like a Twi-lek entertainer moved around a stage. He gave answers that…well, didn't really answer anything.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked angrily.

The man just chuckled. "Acting like your Master already."

Ahsoka grit her teeth. She was getting almost _nothing_ from this guy! Before she could say anything else, though, he slid to a stop at an intersection and she had to scramble to not run into him.

"While your Master is not without fault, he is a good man and a good Jedi. He needs people he can trust around him. Can you be one of those people, young Padawan?"

"Gah! Stop talking in riddles! Of course he can trust me! He's my Master!"

"Good. Keep going in that direction and be careful."

The man pointed in one direction before he turned down an entirely different corridor and bolted.

"Wait, where are you going?"

But he didn't answer. Ahsoka bit her lip and looked after his retreating form for a moment, then glanced down the hall that would lead her to her Master. Then she looked back at the man one last time and turned down the hall that would take her to the _Twilight_. When it all came down to it, she had orders to follow. Well that, and somehow she knew Anakin Skywalker wouldn't leave without her on board. This knowledge did not, at the moment, upset her.


	14. Chapter 14

_They say it just takes the smallest flame to chase away the dark, and that darkness is simply the absence of light, nothing more. If that is so true, than why can I not even seem to make the barest spark anymore? I fear my life is now just that empty. Perhaps that is why the dark side can corrupt so well, because when one walks through this solitary pain, the easiest way to protect oneself is to embrace it. How long will it be before I can no longer resist it, I wonder? Because I cannot believe any human—no, any sentient—was made to bare this._

"Two smaller ships escaped at the end of the battle. We sent fighters after them, but both managed to enter hyperspace before we could engage them," Admiral Yularen reported to Anakin.

The young General nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Admiral. Prepare troops to board the ship. It may have valuable information we can use."

"Yes, sir," the ship's commander said with a stiff nod before turning to address members of the fleet that would carry out Anakin's command. Meanwhile Anakin glanced around the gray bridge of his flag ship before turning to the door. Master Plo Koon was with Ahsoka now, but Anakin still wanted to be there with her. She was his responsibility. She'd gotten hurt on his watch, and he couldn't help but want to watch as she recovered, to at least see with his own eyes that she was alright.

Still, part of him did not want to go down there. She would have too many questions that he just couldn't answer right now. However, Padmé was aboard…

He was already on his way to the exit before the thought had finished processing in his mind. "Inform me when the troops are ready," Anakin said over his shoulder.

"Sir," came the short response before the door closed behind him.

Anakin slumped against the wall of the lift, his mind unwittingly going over those last few minutes on the _Malevolence_, along with the subsequent transfer to the Republic Fleet, yet again.

_One hour earlier_

"Anakin, I'm not sure how much longer we can hold them off!" Padmé called to him from where she'd taken cover to shoot at the droids behind the door frame. Anakin glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but that was all he could really do at the moment. He agreed with her entirely, but at the same time, he refused to leave his Padawan. He'd send Padmé to safety on her own before he left without Ahsoka.

And wouldn't that be a fun conversation to have.

"Come on, Snips," he whispered under his breath. "Where are you?" He could feel her coming closer, but he couldn't exactly judge distance. So he concentrated on moving his lightsaber as he jumped around and through the droid ranks that had cornered them in the hall leading to the hatch where the Twilight stayed docked.

"Anakin?"

"I know," he said to Padmé, probably a little more shortly than he should have. "I'm not leaving without her."

"I'm not saying we should, but we may want to come up with a plan," Padmé returned, a touch of steel in her own voice.

"I'm here! Sorry!" a new voice piped up and Anakin couldn't help the wave of relief that washed over him as a green lightsaber came hurtling down, chopping droids in half.

"Took you long enough," Anakin couldn't help but snipe. He was marginally worried when she didn't say anything back.

"Into the Twilight," he ordered.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Ahsoka responded, already jumping through the door. Anakin followed her and stepped through just as the blast doors closed.

The momentary silence in the small space almost overwhelmed him, as it always did after a battle, and he could actually stop and think for a moment. Then he had his wrist communicator out. "R2, get us out of here! I'm on my way." A series of beeps answered him as he made his way down the narrow hall of the twilight.

"I know you can't drive this thing very well! Just release the docking clamps. We have to get out of here!" He heard more bleeps and blats that translated to a slight echo as he practically dived into the cockpit. However, R2 hadn't let him down before, and this was no different. They had already detached from the ship and everything had been prepped to go.

"Strap in!" he said to the two women coming into the room behind him. He had no idea where 3P0 was, but he had to be on the ship somewhere. Probably in one of the cabins.

And then they were off, flying below the storm of laser fire.

Once he felt they were relatively safe, he relaxed a bit and glanced over at the love of his life and his Padawan.

"Are you two alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Padmé acknowledged.

"Yes," Ahsoka said, her tone just a little too evasive. Anakin frowned and thought back on her actions when she'd rushed in.

"Then why were you using only your left hand in the fight earlier?"

She looked away. "I…kind of got shot."

"What?!" Anakin and Padmé exclaimed at the same time. At any other time, he would have smiled at how similar he and his wife thought, but at that moment he was only filled with concern.

"Explain, now," Anakin insisted.

And Ahsoka did. She told him all about how she'd practically waltzed into a trap set by Grievous, had almost been overwhelmed, and then how the stranger she'd reported before had come to her rescue. Anakin had known who it was then and her explanation didn't change his mind.

He kept his face impassive as Ahsoka continued her explanation of how she'd used Grievous and the stranger dueling as a distraction to take out the hyperdrive and how the man had chosen to save her instead of going after Grievous there towards the end.

Anakin's calm was, yet again, not by any means from any form of control. No, it stemmed from a lack of knowing how to respond to this. Should he be upset? Angry that that man had decided to show up again after everything that had happened? Yes, he definitely felt that, but then again, Obi-wan had saved Ahsoka. He'd chosen to save her… That did not fit with what he knew of fallen Jedi. That made him hopeful and wary and sad all at the same time. Frankly, just about everything Obi-wan did these days confused the tek kuuta maa out of him.

"What did this man look like?" Padmé asked, breaking through Anakin's thoughts. He shook his head and focused on the here and now, realizing that he probably hadn't responded for a little while. The last thing he needed to do was worry the two most important people in his life even more.

"Well," Ahsoka said, glancing hesitantly at Anakin, who nodded. "As I said before, he was average height and build for a human, although he looked like he doesn't take very good care of himself." And why did that of all things spark the anger Anakin had been expecting to feel before now? "He had a scruffy beard and two scars about here," she gestured to her cheek and neck. "I don't know how far they went down because he was wearing a hood and a high collar. He had a blue lightsaber."

Then she turned to Anakin. "Do you know him, Master? The way he spoke of you, and what you said about him, well, I felt that you two had history."

Anakin couldn't help but stiffen in his chair at that.

"What did he tell you?" Anakin asked, a little more of an edge to his voice than he had intended. He was doing that a lot lately. Maybe he did need to work on his control more. Or maybe he needed to take the Chancellor's advice and relax for a little while.

Ahsoka studied him with an unreadable expression on her face and she seemed to draw in on herself ever so slightly. He only noticed because of how her now bandaged arm moved. He'd treated it earlier as she'd explained everything.

"He had a message for you. He wanted to know if you'd told 'them' about Tatooine. Then he said you'd know what he meant."

Anakin hoped he didn't pale too much at that. With that comment bouncing around the cockpit, he couldn't seem to bring himself to look at his Padawan's innocent eyes any more. He had to get up from his chair and face the transparasteel that allowed him to see out into space. They were coming up to the fleet. He wished they had already landed so he could escape this. He did _not_ want to talk about it.

"Anakin?" Padmé asked, more than a little worry to her voice.

"What else did he say?" Anakin asked tersely. He heard Ahsoka gulp but continue.

"He said that if you didn't answer, I was to tell you: 'If you don't wish to end up like me, you will have to take a step forward and learn to trust the people around you.'"

Anakin whirled on her. "I do trust the people around me."

The expression she gave him seemed rather incredulous and more than a little shocked. "He said you'd say that too. He said that isn't true and that you only trust three people: Yourself, the Chancellor and Senator Amidala because she helped free you."

Padmé sucked in a breath and Anakin couldn't help but take a step back, feeling as if he'd been struck. How could Obi-wan say something like that? What would drive him to do so? The dark side? Perhaps a half a year ago, he would have given it up as that, but now…

Now he had to look at himself. Did he really not trust the people around him?

"Master? What did he mean when he said that the Senator helped to free you?"

And at that moment, Anakin realized just how well Obi-wan had set this conversation up. Because he did not want to tell her—or anyone—of his past as a slave, or of his shame at his lack of control on Tatooine, or how terrible of a Jedi he was because he couldn't seem to live by their rules. If he didn't want to tell them, then did that mean he didn't trust them?

He pondered that thought and came to a startling conclusion. No, he didn't trust her. Not yet. Their relationship was still too new. Worse, he didn't trust the Jedi. And just how long had it been like that? And why? Why didn't he trust them? Was it because of what Obi-wan had told him on Mandalore? Because he feared the Council simply because they had power over his fate and his future? Or did it go deeper than that?

"Master, are you alright?"

He looked up at the worried gray-blue eyes of his Padawan, who had risen from her seat to approach him. She looked so concerned, like she only wanted to help. Could he trust her? Should he? Then he remembered back to how he felt towards his Master, and how he would have done anything if it meant helping or saving Obi-wan. Anything.

Even step out of his comfort zone (take a light-speed transport, more like).

He sighed. "I…don't know." And that was about as good as they were going to get at this point.

"Who was that man?" she demanded, sounding more than a little upset, probably on his behalf. "He said he was proud of you when he heard you'd taken me on as a Padawan, but the way you reacted…it doesn't make sense!"

Anakin couldn't answer, his own shock at that revelation overwhelming him. He could only stare in wide-eyed stupor at the togruta. Obi-wan was proud of him? He'd never told Anakin that before…

Thankfully, Padmé was able to answer for him. "It was Obi-wan Kenobi."

Ahsoka gasped. "G-general Kenobi? B-but he's dead…isn't he?"

"Ahsoka," Anakin said, his voice unusually soft, "what I am about to tell you, you can never speak of outside of the Council room or in the presence of anyone else. Obi-wan Kenobi didn't die…he fell to the dark side."

The pure and utter shock coursed along their training bond and Ahsoka couldn't seem to do anything but stare at him in pure disbelief.

"He claims he isn't a Sith, and he claims to still be fighting for the Republic—for the Jedi, even. It's just…we can't trust him."

The girl seemed shaky and had to sit down in her chair again.

And there was one more thing he had to tell her, not because it was relevant to the current topic, but because as much as he hated to admit it, Obi-wan was right. He needed to start trusting people around him.

"And when he said Padmé helped free me…well, I used to be a slave. When I was nine galactic standard years old…"

_Currently_

The door opened onto the floor he'd been aiming for and he straightened his back, stepping out of it and into the long, well-lit hallway. He strode forward, his steps measured but purposeful. After several moments, he stopped in front of the Senator's room and knocked. It only took a few minutes for her to open the door.

"Ani," she said, sounding a little surprised when she saw who had come to see her. "I mean Jedi Skywalker. Come in. What can I do for—"

She cut off when he walked up to her and just put his arms around her. Thankfully, the door closed behind him, but he wasn't sure he really cared if it didn't at the moment. Right now, he just needed to hold her, to know that she was close and there—to know that someone was still real in his life.

She must have sensed his fragile state of mind because he could feel her worry and sadness grow. "Oh, Ani," she whispered as her arms came around him. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, but it was all he could do to not completely break down in her arms and he had no intention of moving until he felt like he could face the people he needed to face without completely shattering.

"Why is this happening?" he asked into her nut-brown hair. "Why did he leave me?"

"I don't know, Ani," she whispered back. "But he must have had a reason. Even if it wasn't a good one."

It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but as usual, it was what he needed to hear.

"No, it had to be a good one," he muttered back. "I just…don't understand. I don't know if I _want_ to understand."

She sighed, her arms tightening around him. "You'll get a chance to ask him."

"I hate this," he muttered. "I hate not knowing why or how or what is going on…but I don't want to hate anymore. I'm so tired of it."

That seemed to surprise her because she leaned away from him, still keeping her arms on his hips as she looked up into his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"He said that hate led him where he is. I…I don't want to be like that, so I don't want to hate anymore. Master Yoda says fear leads to anger and anger leads to hate and hate leads to suffering. I…I don't think I really understood that until I saw him on Mandalore. He's suffering, so much. So why won't he come back to us for help? Why does he insist on fighting this on his own? Especially when he's losing! Is it a pride thing? Or is it…because he doesn't trust me?" Just like Anakin didn't trust Ahsoka as much as he'd thought he had.

"No," Padmé said, understanding coming to her eyes. "I think he trusts you more than anyone, and I don't think it has to do with pride either, at least I don't think it started out that way. I think he's entrusted the entire future to you, but he doesn't trust himself. He left, thinking that you can handle your life on your own now."

"Then why does he always seem to show up when I'm in trouble?" he asked, unable to make his voice louder than a whisper.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, shifting awkwardly before she responded, her words equally as soft. "I…think he's looking out for you still because he loves you."

Anakin had to shake his head vehemently at that. "No, Obi-wan doesn't…" but then he faded off as half-remembered words came to his mind. _If I were the perfect Jedi, I wouldn't have fallen in love, twice. And I wouldn't care about you the way I do._

"But…Jedi aren't allowed to…" but he faded off when he looked at the woman in his arms—the woman he'd defied the Order for. He couldn't help how he felt for her. Maybe Obi-wan couldn't help that either? He'd always said that he was just as frustrated or upset as Anakin, but just better at hiding it. Anakin hadn't really believed him up until that very moment.

Padmé's eyes were still sad, but they had a sparkle to them that spoke of triumph and satisfaction that she'd made her point.

"Okay, let's say that you're right," he acquiesced, still trying to wrap his head around the entire notion. "Then why is he acting like this?" Anakin asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Can the dark side change someone that much?"

Padmé's lips thinned and she looked away. "I can't answer that, Ani."

He sighed, deflating. "I know."

They stood there for a little while longer before Padmé took his hand. "Lay down and rest for a little while," she said. "You look like you need it."

He considered arguing with her—he had places to go and people to see, but he couldn't seem to come up with a coherent argument. Finally, he simply nodded.

"Stay with me?" he asked as he walked (stumbled) towards the bed, hating how childish he sounded.

But Padmé, being, well, Padmé, just smiled and nodded. "Of course I will."

xXx

Obi-wan frowned up at the building in front of him. He'd returned to Haadrian to prepare for the next phase of his plan, but that did not mean he was in any way looking forward to this; quite the opposite, actually. It had taken a great deal of thought and the realization of holes in his plan that he truthfully had no other way around to conclude that he needed to do this, no matter how uncomfortable it made him feel.

And he most certainly did feel uncomfortable.

The building he'd come to looked rather new in the neighborhood and had a large sign written in three languages posted above the wide door that said, 'Shanida's Salon and Spa'. Obi-wan read it again and suppressed a shudder. He had many faults, but vanity had never been one of them. The only thing he'd ever really been adamant about concerning his outward appearance was his beard, and that was less about looking good and more about wanting to be taken seriously on missions with Anakin instead of being mistaken for his Padawan's brother or classmate.

The problem was he needed to do this. It hadn't escaped his notice that his skin had begun to take on a rather pale pallor, or that he looked sickly and malnourished (despite the fact that he actually had been making sure to eat the basic requirements for nutrition since his stay in the long-term-care facility). He also really, _really_ disliked the scars on his face and wanted to do something about that as well. The marks were too distinguishing. True, he probably wouldn't be able to fix that problem here, but he could at least begin to fix everything else. At least he hoped so. The only thing that would make him more uncomfortable would be to go back to a healer. He wouldn't do that unless he absolutely had to. No one could be as fussy as a healer, after all.

"Come on, Kenobi," he told himself. "Stop being such a coward."

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he finally forced himself to walk forward, ignoring the line running though his head that went something like: _A Dark Jedi walks into a salon…_

Somehow he felt that lately he'd become a punch line to the universe's most distasteful joke.

The woman that greeted him behind the desk was a middle-aged, human woman who would have been quite attractive if she hadn't had on makeup so thick Obi-wan was sure he'd be able to chisel it off with a vibro blade without touching her actual skin. Still, she sent a friendly smile in his direction and turned behind her desk to face him more fully as soon as she saw him.

"Welcome to Shanida's Salon and Boutique. How can we help you today?"

Obi-wan clamped down on his urge to turn and run, making sure to keep his face blank as he addressed the woman.

"I have…an interview of sorts approaching and I need to look respectable."

The woman nodded, smile still on her face as she looked Obi-wan up and down.

"If you can take down your hood, we can go over what you would like done today."

Reluctantly, Obi-wan reached up and lowered the hood on his head. The woman looked him over for a few minutes before nodding and marking something down on a data pad in front of her.

"Would you like a clothing consultation today, or are you just looking for basic skin and hair care?"

Obi-wan couldn't help but frown. What did she mean by skin and hair care? Did he really look that bad or was that just a normal question? He shouldn't look too bad. He took showers every chance he could. Somehow he suspected that the dark side had something to do with it if she had meant it like that. After all, it corrupted everything, why not include the user's physical appearance in that? It would certainly explain Ventress looking like some sort of walking skeleton, as well as some of the Nightsisters' appearances, although if that were the case, then how did Dooku and Palpatine stop that kind of wear on their bodies? Perhaps they did what Obi-wan was doing now? He tried to imagine Dooku walking into a Salon and had to fight down a vindictive smile.

Turning his focus back to the matter at hand, he thought about her question for a moment, ignoring how upset he'd felt at her comment. Truthfully, he really wanted to get all of this done as soon as possible, and all in one go if he could. He would need to look like a senator's aid and then a senator, and while he knew people in those kinds of circles tended to spend a great deal on their wardrobe, that was about the extent of what he knew. It wasn't along the line of anything he'd ever studied unless it was significant to the culture of whatever planet he'd planned on visiting.

Truthfully, he only really knew enough to realize that he knew nothing at all.

"A full consultation, please," he said.

The woman smiled. "Very well. I'll put you with Amyn'rah. She's one of my best. Here is a list of all of our prices. I can have it transferred to your com unit or if you have a portable holo computer that will work as well."

For a moment Obi-wan looked at her warily. It wasn't wise to allow just anyone access to a personal computer or comm. unit, but then, he'd done his research, and the salon was reported to be reputable. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything of true significance on his little wrist-computer and he also knew how to identify and remove anything that may be a threat, so he held his hand out. The woman smiled and put the chip into the correct slot. Immediately, a holographic menu popped up and Obi-wan perused it.

He'd been expecting high prices, but he was still surprised to see exactly how high and just what was listed. He would need to be more careful with his credits after this, even if he still had a rather large chunk left over from the funds he'd taken with him. Either that or he'd have to go back to illegal racing again like he had when he'd first fallen.

"Ah, yes," he muttered in acknowledgement before clearing his throat and looking back at the woman. "Before that, though, I have a question regarding these scars," he said, pulling the neck of his collar down to better reveal the two marks. "I know you probably can't really do anything about them here, but could you recommend someone I can trust to remove them discreetly?"

She frowned and tapped her chin with what looked like an actual claw instead of a fingernail (although it was painted brightly). Perhaps he'd been mistaken in thinking her human. Or, perhaps, it was simply some sort of fad she'd bought into. He wasn't sure he wanted to know which was true.

"We do have processes that can lessen the appearance of scars, sometimes eliminate the discoloration altogether, and we can do all of those here in the salon," the receptionist said.

He found himself a bit surprised. "And would the scarred tissue be able to grow hair?"

The woman frowned again. "Probably not, but we do have space-fillers that we could put on the scarred area. I'm assuming you'll wish to grow a beard."

Obi-wan nodded his head in acknowledgement before frowning. "I'd much rather see if I could heal it or rectify it somehow."

The woman shrugged as if to say 'alright, its your money' and reached down to pull out another data card. This one lit up with a hologram on its own and showed an advertisement for a 'look improvement surgeon'.

"She's _good_ and reasonable when it comes to timing and pricing."

"Thank you," Obi-wan said, inclining his head politely then turned his attention back to the price list as he pocketed the other chip. Truthfully he felt a little overwhelmed and more than a little unsure. Where was he supposed to start? His scars had been his biggest point, and he knew that he needed a haircut badly too, but he hadn't even considered that they could do anything with his skin and clothing. Would he want to go over that first? At the Jedi Temple he just went to a droid, told it approximately what he wanted and then ordered some robes and that was that. He hadn't realized just how simplistic a lot of the Jedi practices were (and wasn't thinking it was a bad thing at this point).

After a moment, he glanced back up at the woman (who he assumed was Shanida). "Where would you recommend starting?"

She smiled as if she'd been expecting the question. "Your skin, definitely." With that, she turned to the door behind her and peeked her head through. "Amyn'rah! Ah, there you are." She turned back to Obi-wan as another woman stepped through the door.

"Amyn'rah, this is your next client, Mr.…" she faded off expectantly.

"Ben," he said shortly. He'd decided on something simple and easy for his alias and somehow, in his mind, it stuck.

"Mr. Ben," the receptionist said to the newcomer. Then she looked back at Obi-wan. "Mr. Ben, this is Amyn'rah and I'm Shanida. We will be happy to help you today." Then she turned back to her underling, expression becoming serious.

"Make sure to go over nutrition and any supplements that will help him become and/or appear healthier. Procedures, make up, the works. He has an interview he has to prepare for."

Then she turned back to him, smile back in place. Obi-wan had to admit, she was good. The smile looked completely sincere despite the fact that she'd plastered it on just as her head flipped to look at him.

"When is your interview?"

He didn't really have a set date to meet the Senator from Eeropha (his plan just required a little set up beforehand), so he took a random guess at how long they would possibly need and added a few days just in case. "Next week."

"That doesn't give us a whole lot of time, but we can definitely work with it," the woman muttered with a nod. Obi-wan couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. Not much time? Just how long would they need to do…whatever they needed to do? His uneasiness leapt up several notches, but he kept firm hold on it, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. It had been harder to do since he fell (the dark side only seemed to magnify every emotion) but he'd been getting better at it since he'd started training with the Nightbrothers—if only out of experience.

"Very well, sir," Amyn'rah said with a bright smile of her own. Unlike the owner of the salon, the girl (a surprisingly young twi-lek) didn't look like she wore much makeup although her getup didn't leave a lot to the imagination. Obi-wan endeavored to keep his eyes on the girl's face.

"If you would follow me," she said, gesturing to the back of the shop. Obi-wan steeled himself and then stepped through the doorway, preparing mentally and emotionally for whatever torture he was about to put himself through.

The things he did for Anakin…

xXx

Because there had to be some light in there...right? Don't get used to it. Won't happen often.


	15. Chapter 15

_Fear is far more subtle than many people give it credit for. When people think of fear, they tend to think of running and screaming or someone frozen in place because of terror. Everyone has a memory like that, so everyone can relate. But the real danger with fear is that it comes in so many forms. It seeps into and taints almost everything within a person because that instinct is what keeps us or what we care for safe. It is why races and species and individuals survive. _

_For instance, when someone truly cares for someone else, they are happy when the other person is happy, but they fear the loss of that person. It begins to drive their actions. This is why attachment was forbidden among Jedi. We who serve the people of the Galaxy cannot afford to think of ourselves and our own happiness because too many people will suffer otherwise...and because fear will undoubtedly set in. _

_When I was younger, I thought all the older Jedi had overcome their fear. When I first fell, I thought none of the Jedi had. Now that I have become so used to the darkness, I can see that there were some I knew who had risen above it—not all of them Jedi. I dedicated my life as a Jedi to becoming one of those people. My efforts were in vain because now I know I never will—never _can_—attain that goal._

"Well," Shanida said to Amyn'rah after their new client left, "I'm betting that was an interesting meeting you had." She glanced at the schedule for the next few weeks. "Especially seeing as you talked him into coming back and sold a good deal of product on top of that."

The twi'lek sighed and practically collapsed into one of the chairs Shanida kept behind the desk.

"Extremely," she said with a shake of her head. "He wouldn't tell me much about his past, so I didn't pry. He was amiable, if terse, and he clearly had absolutely no idea what he was doing. I think he might be a bounty hunter trying to get into a more respectable line of work."

Shanida shot a disapproving frown at her stylist. "Let's not speculate. So you let him know that he's going to have to come back for the next several weeks if he wants to get a better complexion."

Amyn'rah nodded, a frown coming to her own lips. "He said that he worked out on an outer rim planet on a fairly regular basis…in the sun."

The salon owner raised one eyebrow in skepticism.

Amyn'rah nodded in agreement with her boss' unspoken assessment. "I know, but he insisted. Perhaps it's the planet's atmosphere or something? It could block UV rays. Or maybe the star doesn't give off a lot of those kinds of rays or something."

Shanida shrugged. "I certainly don't know. That's why I'm a salon owner, not an astronomer." She looked back at the doorway thoughtfully. "He did look much nicer when he left. You did a good job."

The twi'lek shrugged, although she couldn't quite hide her pleasure at the compliment. "It wasn't like it was that hard. Just about every suggestion he was willing to try. I think he wanted to learn as much about his appearance as he could."

"Makes sense if he's going to a high-end interview," Shanida commented. "He'll want to keep up his appearance. Impressions?"

The fact that Amyn'rah didn't answer for several seconds caused her wariness to show its head.

"He's polite to a fault, didn't make any passes at me at all, treated me with the utmost respect and seemed genuinely interested in just about everything I had to say."

"But…" Shania probed, tapping her finger-claws against the duroplast of her desk impatiently.

The twi'lek shook her head, causing her lekku to twitch strangely. As if in response to this, she reached behind her and brought one of the appendages in front of her shoulder, playing with the end of it in a nervous habit.

"I don't know. There's just…something about him that gives me the creeps. Something seems…wrong."

"I won't let him back in if you don't want me to," Shania reminded her. Safety for her girls always came first.

Amyn'rah contemplated that for a few moments, her eyes watching the doorway as if expecting the subject of their conversation to come back in at any moment.

"No, it's alright," she finally said, waving one of her hands in front of her as if to swat a thought away. "He's a decent guy. Whatever is wrong makes me sad more than anything else. I don't know why."

Shanida frowned. "If you're sure."

The twi'lek nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. He'll be back the day after tomorrow to get another tanning treatment. I also gave him a list of food he should avoid and food he should pursue. He should look much better the next time he comes in. If we still can't get him to look much healthier by next week, I'll start talking to him about makeup."

The salon owner smiled, her frame relaxing quite a bit. "I can imagine just how well he'll take that."

Amyn'rah snickered. "Well, if he wants to look the part of whatever he's aiming for, then he'll listen."

"Keep me updated then," Shanida said with a nod. "You may want to go prepare for your 1500."

"Yes, boss," the younger girl said with a grin, hopping up from her chair and rushing into the back room.

xXx

Obi-wan felt as if he'd just been tossed into a proverbial typhoon and left to flounder and survive as best he could. How could he have known there would be so much involved with looks and dressing and…

He_ really _just wanted to be a Jedi again. He wanted to go back to when life was simple and the only thing he had to worry about was a shower and a decent hair cut, not the cut of the cloth of his clothing, the color, how it matched with his skin and how all of that would change once he got a better complexion back, how the clothes would match or clash with his hair and why and what the different fads actually said about one's character…

How did people deal with it? Why would anyone _willingly_ put themselves through all of this? The twi'lek girl had said that a politician's defense was his clothing. In the Senate, people judged by looks. The richer and more well dressed you looked, the more allies one would gain because of the greedy fools who only cared for their own personal gain, which would only mean they would have to upkeep their look or make it even more prominent to gain more allies…it seemed like such a vicious cycle not completely unlike the trap of the dark side.

Perhaps that was why Palpatine seemed to like politics so much.

Obi-wan sighed and ran a hand through his freshly cut hair. Really, what was he getting himself into?

Still, if it got him into the Senate, then he would do it. There just wasn't any other viable way to get close enough to the Chancellor. True, he could try to go in as a servant, but he knew that high-end servants for senators took years, if not decades, to get to a decently prominent position.

With that rather grim thought in his mind, he turned his thoughts to the plan he'd formed for his introduction to the prospective Senator of Eeropha. He went over each detail yet again, making sure he hadn't missed anything.

xXx

_One week later…_

"Excuse me, sir," Ashid Forra looked up from his papers on his desk to his secretary.

"What is it?" he asked, just a little snappish. The woman, already used to his moodiness, didn't so much as flinch.

"There is someone here to see you," she said. "He insisted, and he does have an appointment."

Ashid frowned. "What is this about?" he asked.

"Security, from what I understand."

The senatorial candidate scoffed. "I already have the security I need. Now—"

"You may not want to dismiss my services so quickly," a tenor voice interrupted. Ashid frowned ever so slightly. The voice somehow seemed both calm and turbulent—weighted and light—simultaneously. He had smooth tones and a jovial sound but there was something underneath the words that the politician couldn't seem to identify…

He scrutinized the man standing right behind his secretary, who had jumped a parsec and was now scolding the unknown person, much to the stranger's amusement. He looked a little sickly, but Ashid could see the easy way the man stood, and when he moved he used graceful, effortless movements.

The politician leaned back thoughtfully before he interrupted his secretary's diatribe.

"…told you to wait in the reception area! Not only did you not listen to my instructions, but you scared the living daylights out of me! Now I'm going to—"

"Why should I listen to anything you say?" Ashid cut in.

The man shrugged, ignoring the poisonous look the secretary shot him. "Because you have too many holes in your current security."

Ashid couldn't help his dry expression. "What makes you say that?"

The man smiled. "This."

He held up a data pad. Ashid couldn't help his face paling.

"Where did you get that?" he asked through clenched teeth. He knew that pad. It had documents on it that were most definitely not for public eyes.

The man smirked. "Your office. Last night. It was rather easy, I must say. Some of your men are incredibly dedicated, but most of them do not take their duties seriously. Their patrols are few, predictable and easily avoided by anyone who knows what they're doing. Whoever set up the check points did a mediocre job at best."

As he spoke, he walked past a now blank-faced secretary and into the room, setting the pad on the desk. Ashid looked at it for a few moments, wondering just what his response should be. He did not trust a man who proved his point like this, and yet it was extremely effective.

"Don't fret, nothing has been copied."

Ashid had half a mind to pull his personal blaster on the guy and just take him out now. "And I should just take your word on that?"

The man shrugged. "There wasn't anything on here that I didn't know already. Really, you should cover your tracks better."

He glanced up at his secretary who still stood in the door, glaring at both of them. "That will be all, Aggie," he said with a reassuring smile. She shot him a look that said they would be discussing it later before she shut the door behind her. Good, if he needed to take this man out, he didn't want witnesses. Aggie could keep her mouth shut, but she was a good worker and he would prefer to keep her around. He didn't want to push his luck and scare her away.

The man watched her leave, still looking highly amused. It was exactly what Ashid wanted him to do. No sooner had the door closed then he had his blaster in hand and pointed right at the newcomer's head.

"Shouldn't you listen to my proposal before you do anything…rash?" the man asked, not even looking back.

Ashid frowned. How had he known? Ashid had been nearly silent as he'd risen and taken out his weapon. The 'guest' had probably jumped to a conclusion, the politician reasoned in his mind and brushed it aside.

"Start talking then."

The man had the gall to chuckle. "Very well. My name is Ben Kurashohi. I want revenge on someone in the Senate and you are my ticket to him."

Ashid's expression became wary, but he relaxed just a little. "On whom do you want revenge?"

Kurashohi waved a hand through the air as if to swat a thought away. "It is of little consequence. No one you have met personally and he does not hail from this planet or any of its political allies."

Which spoke volumes of this man. Not only did he do his research, but he obviously didn't want anyone else to get caught up in this personal war of his. He was, however, willing to go to any lengths to accomplish his goals. Ashid could work with that.

"And you wish for me to hire you as my personal guard?"

"I was thinking more 'captain of security', but you have the right idea."

Ashid hummed thoughtfully. "And if I don't you will release all of my secrets."

The man's expression turned wry. "No. I don't particularly care one way or another about your political campaign. I was simply pointing out your need for better security."

Ashid Forra was no fool. He could read the warning between the lines. This man didn't want to outright threaten him, but he still wanted to make sure Ashid did what he wanted. Still, he was getting to where he rather liked this man—well, he was garnering a healthy respect in any case. His guest knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to do what was necessary to get it, just like every _good_ politician Ashid had met.

"Have you ever considered a career in politics?"

Kurashohi scoffed. "I have. I dismissed it from my options because I despise them."

And he said it with such vehemence that Ashid had little trouble believing him. Well, if he didn't have to worry about this man trying to take his position, he would much rather keep a close eye on him than anything else. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all of that.

Or he could just kill Kurashohi now and eliminate the threat. It was plausible, he had ways of disposing of the body, however the man brought up some good points. If Ashid needed better security…

"Why should I agree to even a trail run? Why should I play along with your plan? What makes you worth all the trouble you'll undoubtedly be?"

The man's smirk grew ever so slightly and gained just the slightest sinister edge to it. He reached out a hand and Ashid jumped at the blaster he'd been holding flew into the other man's grasp.

"Because I've taken on Jedi and won."

Ashid stared blankly at the blaster that had been in his own hand not moments before. Sano Sauro's own outlook on Jedi was rather well known, and while few really agreed with him, no one had the experience to refute his claims. Suddenly, though, with this man sitting there twirling Ashid's personal weapon around his finger, the politician could see why Sauro had taken the stance he had. But the former Vice Chancellor had obviously gained his opinion—and thus acted—out of fear…which was not something Ashid made a habit of. What could he do and where could he go with this man at his side? This man who could do what Jedi could…

Of course, that brought another question to mind.

"Are you a Jedi?"

Kurashohi's smile vanished, replaced by a stony expression that Ashid found even creepier somehow. The grin had said the man enjoyed what he did, but this…this hid something far deeper; so deep Ashid was sure he would drown if he tried to uncover it…and yet…

"No," Kurashohi said in a neutral voice that held no emotion whatsoever. "If I were, I wouldn't have shown my hand like that."

No, he wouldn't have. He was too intelligent for that. But that opened other options that posed far too much of a risk…but yet, it also held _such_ an opportunity.

"And what is your stance on the Jedi?"

The man tipped his head to the side as he contemplated that for a moment, but when he spoke, his tone held such a conviction and truth to them that Ashid couldn't help but believe him.

"The Jedi are good people. Most if not all of them really do want to help and genuinely fight for peace. What no one else in the galaxy seems to realize is that they're sentients, just like the rest of us, prone to mistakes and their own form of corruption."

What a…strange outlook. It sounded extremely personal. If he wasn't a Jedi himself, just what was his connection to them? And did he dare try to find out?

"Corruption?" he asked after a moment, hoping for some clarification.

The man shrugged. "Mainly stagnation. They've seperated themselves from the rest of the universe too, unintentionally as it may be."

"And the Sith?"

The other man's expression darkened. It was by far the most dangerous expression Ashid had ever seen on anyone.

"The Sith belong to an evil order that should be completely eradicated from the universe."

Ashid managed to not gulp or shrink back in fear. Whatever this man's connection to the Sith, it made his stand-offish attitude towards the Jedi seem as open as deep space. Still, he had to ask. If he didn't and it turned out to be true… He repressed a shudder, then gathered his courage and opened his mouth.

"So you aren't the apprentice everyone's been talking about?"

Instead of the even darker expression Ashid had been expecting and bracing for, Kurashohi simply reached a hand up and stroked his chin in contemplation, studying Ashid with what looked like a new respect. That boded well for both of them as far as the politician was concerned.

"The Sith in the Senate is who I wish to seek vengeance upon."

How interesting. Kurashohi _could _still be lying, but Ashid found himself believing the man nonetheless. The possibilities were just too good for him to turn this down. He'd simply have to keep a close eye on the man. A _very_ close eye.

"I'm assuming you will also need papers, seeing as I doubt you're originally from Eeropha. When can you start?"

"Today if you wish, but I have just one stipulation. I am undergoing some…training to help me accomplish my goal. I will need to leave for at least a week's time once a month for the duration of my 'employment'."

Ashid frowned. "And what should I do during that week you're gone?"

The man's smirk returned. "By the end of this week, the only people who will be able to get to you, even without me here, will be Jedi, and even they will have a difficult time of it."

The politician leaned back in his chair and raised a half-amused, half challenging eyebrow. "Because if I die it will take you a while to find someone with security holes like mine?"

Kurashohi shrugged. "Something to that effect."

"I would be a fool to trust you."

"I completely agree."

Ashid couldn't help but smile. "But I like you. Be here tomorrow at 0900 hours. I will arrange for you to have quarters here."

"Very well." The man rose with a very Jedi-like bow before turning to leave. "Oh," he said just before he reached the door, "I also have to say that your documents will have to be perfect. Take it out of my wages if you like, but they have to be of the highest quality."

Ashid frowned. Why? What was so important if he would be the only one looking at them for the most part? Still, it wouldn't be that much more difficult, and having a servant with faultless documents would be beneficial.

"I will take that into account."

At that, the man bowed respectfully, turned and left. For a moment Ashid wondered exactly what he'd just done, but then he made a few mental notes about what he'd seen before he returned to what he'd been working on before Kurashohi had interrupted him. He'd just have to ferret out the man's secrets. He was good at that. And when the man had proven to be too much to handle, Ashid would simply get rid of him. He'd have to make some preparations there, but he hadn't gotten where he was by simply taking what was handed to him on a silver platter. He always checked for poisons, and Kurashohi was definitely poisonous.

If he were feeling generous, he may actually let the man get his revenge first. If Ashid played his cards right, he might even be able to take credit for it. 'Feller of the Sith' had a nice, if old-fashioned ring to it. He would be a hero, perhaps even a shoo-in for the Chancellorship…

He found himself in an extremely good mood for the rest of the day.

xXx

He wanted to get a feel for the planet that would be his 'home' for the next several months. He probably wouldn't get a whole lot of time with how he would have to whip the people under Forra into shape, which meant that now would be his best opportunity. So he sat at an outside table of the restaurant he'd stopped at, sipping a cup of caff slowly as he watched the people passing by.

This was a prosperous planet with a good industry and decent trade relations with its neighbors. The planet ran on a common democracy that elected their leaders and put up a rather united front when it came to politics, with a few exceptions (one being their stance on the war and another being their stance with the Jedi—both seemed to be split right down the middle). Still, there was little violence—although Obi-wan could spot some shady dealings here and there and suspected that they ran deeper—and their populace tended to fall comfortably within the middle class.

Basically, they were all soft, naive fools who didn't ever seem to look past their own noses. They turned a blind eye to suffering because they didn't know how to deal with it, and then they would just press their leaders to do something about it if they did happen to notice anything. Those kinds of deals rarely came to any good in Obi-wan's experience.

It was sad that he would have found a spark of joy in seeing the people around him interacting with each other in such a carefree way a year ago. It would have left him feeling warm and peaceful. Now it only left him feeling disgusted. There was so much wrong in the universe, why couldn't everyone pitch in and _do _something? Why did they just leave it to the Jedi and the politicians to fix everything?

He knew the answer, and he knew he was being too hard on the people of the planet. How could he honestly ask more of them than to survive as best they could? And yet, something inside of him kept whispering that more should be done and these people would have to be forced into helping before they would lift a finger.

The worst part about it all was that he saw no solution that didn't have him sinking to their level; or worse. So he took deep breaths and watched the under dealings of the capitol city on Eeropha with a close eye, wishing that he could once again take pleasure in the innocence and happiness that was just as abundant.

xXx

Note: No more salon from here on out. There may be a few mentions, because Obi-wan will have to keep up his appearance, but I mainly put that in here so we get a look at what other people think of him.


	16. Chapter 16

_I think part of the reason I was initially so frustrated and upset was because while I could normally find and come to a middle ground for just about any conflict, for this one—the one fought within my own soul—I couldn't. I thought I had, but I didn't. I only slowed the inevitable…and no matter what I convinced myself of, in my heart I knew it from the beginning._

Armo Drapha tried not to broadcast his nervousness as he was shown into the room where his new superior officer waited. He'd been in this room before, for the interview when he'd first been hired. It was nice and professional looking with gray carpet and wooden paneling that matched the small table set in the center of the room, but it couldn't have been more than three square meters.

The man that sat behind the table was nothing if not intimidating, despite the fact that he sat relaxed and easy in the chair behind the table, it was an easiness born of familiarity with one's body, not one of amicability. If anything, the expression he wore seemed severe and out of place on an otherwise pleasant, if somewhat sickly, face. He looked absolutely nothing like Armo and most of the people Armo knew. The majority of Eeropha's human population had darker skin and very dark hair and the young security officer was no different.

Trying not to act nervously, Armo took the seat opposite of the man that had so quickly become his new boss.

"Armo Drapha," the man said suddenly, causing the younger of the two to jump.

"Y-yes, sir?"

The man looked up, stormy grey-blue eyes meeting his squarely. "The other night, I conducted a security test on the building you were supposed to be guarding."

Armo glanced away for the slightest moment, trying to recall what he'd been doing for the previous nights.

"I've already spoken with your coworkers and dismissed them for not following the contract they signed." Armo paled at that. Moey , Froan and Hampo were gone? They had all been more experienced than him, and they made sure to do their job as it had been laid out for them. He felt his stomach sink as he realized just what this meeting was really about. He'd only just recently gotten this job, and it had been such a good prospect too. Fabulous. What would he tell his wife?

"Of the four of you, you did your duty the most thoroughly and up to standard. As such, I have decided to make you the head of your new team. You will be receiving a pay increase, but you will be required to attend certain meetings and trainings if you accept." His eyes somehow bored intently into Armo, who could only stare in shock. A raise? Seriously?

"Well?" The man, a Mr. Kurashohi if he remembered correctly, looked as if he were getting rather impatient if the tapping of his fingers on the table was anything to go by.

"Um I…would like to say yes, but I need to speak with my wife first."

Mr. Kurashohi sat back, regarding Armo thoughtfully. "A man who thinks before he acts. I appreciate that. It proves I haven't made an incorrect decision. Very well. Please give me an answer by the end of the galactic standard week."

"Y-yes, sir!" he said as he stood up, recognizing the dismissal for what it was.

"Please send the next employee in," Mr. Kurashohi said as Armo walked out, only barely recognizing the order for what it was as his mind seemed to be in more than a slight daze.

He found out a few days later that over 80 percent of the security force had been fired mercilessly. Armo (who had decided to take the raise with the understanding that if there came to be a problem in regards to taking care of and spending time with his family, he would ask to be placed in his old position immediately) couldn't help but wonder just why the man was so strict, but he also couldn't help but be grateful that he'd been one of the few to weather through it.

He had nothing against the man, despite knowing several friends who had lost their employment. Armo understood that sometimes higher-ups had to make hard decisions and he trusted that Mr. Kurashohi had his reasons. There was still something about the man that set his nerves on edge, and so he remained cordial and jovial, but he also avoided the other man whenever he could, not really knowing or understanding why.

If he'd been the type to gossip, he may have realized that he wasn't the only one.

xXx

The next few months passed by in a sort of blur for Obi-wan. He would work out security measures, drill the guards he'd hired, study and make plans, precautions and countermeasures for a few weeks at a time, and then he would leave for the next few weeks to go and help the war effort however he could and to train on Dathomir. As much as he hated to admit it, he could see the progress he was making and how the training helped him learn to keep a clearer mind. It turned out to be a matter of endurance, not in the matter of standing firm despite the wild ice that was the dark side, but riding the waves and bending it to his will. That was where the idea of the focal point in meditation helped, because one did not have to worry about being swept away by the darkness if he was a part of the darkness…or if the darkness was apart of him (which, it seemed, was supposed to be a dark-sider's ultimate goal).

Viscral had actually been pleased with the progress Obi-wan had made and had promised that the next time he came to Dathomir, the Zabarak would begin to teach him how to imbue a Force signature into inanimate objects. Despite himself, he knew he would find the teachings to be most fascinating, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn't looking forward to it. It made him feel dirtier than ever, but the strange wall of numbness had begun to build inside of him again, and he found it quite useful to shove unwanted feelings and emotions behind. He knew there would be consequences for doing so later, but it was all he could really seem to do for now.

It was his second break and he had about three weeks in which he could stay away from Eeropha. The 'aesthetics specialist' he'd gone to see about his scars had said that she could help but there was no guarantee that any hair would grow again in those areas. Unhappily, he'd gone back to Shanida's and they had suggested he grow a half-beard (one where he grew hair on his chin and upper lip only and shaved the rest) or that he used the space fillers they'd originally suggested. He'd promised to think about it and resigned himself to having to do one or the other.

Now he sat on the _Refracted Edge_, going over the information he'd received from his contacts about the war. He'd just read on the news that Anakin, Padmé and even little Ahsoka (who Obi-wan couldn't help but want keep an eye on) had only just barely made it out of some horrendous plot on Naboo involving a galaxy-wide epidemic with their lives intact. Thankfully, Plo Koon had been there with them as well and was a rather large part of why there hadn't been an enormous disaster that had the potential to claim more lives than just those on the peaceful planet. Which was a good thing for the scientist who had been behind the whole plot, because Obi-wan would not have been kind to him if anything had happened to any of them.

It had taken him a moment after he'd finished reading the article to realize that Padmé and Ahsoka had become rather important to him, and he hadn't been exactly sure as to why. He'd known Padmé for years, but had only met Ahsoka once, and didn't interact with either of them on a regular basis. He eventually concluded that he cared because they meant so much to Anakin. Also, he'd always liked Padmé and there was something so refreshing about the little togruta that had become his grand-padawan.

He was simultaneously glad and frustrated that he was getting so many lessons in patience (and not just on Dathomir). It had taken all the self control he possessed to not drop everything and run to their sides as soon as he'd heard, but the article had obviously been published after the fact and he knew he wouldn't do them (or himself) any real good if he charged onto Naboo or Coruscant in a blind panic. So he had forced himself to continue with his routine, heading off to Haadrian for his 'skin treatments' as he'd begun to think of them, and he would poke his head into any battles he ran across to see if he could help out. Thankfully he had been able to do so more than once, but more often than not he would get to a planet or space battle only in time for the clean up. He'd had to outrun more than one scavenger group due to that.

So, with more than a little reluctance (and just about as much anticipation), he decided to finally return to Dathomir.

Viscral met him as he landed, standing with his arms crossed and looking for all the world like an amused parent about to scold or punish a child. Obi-wan didn't much care for the connotations.

Without so much as a 'hello', the Zabarak led the way through the quaint buildings to a smaller structure that Obi-wan hadn't ever been inside before. It reeked of the dark side, but then, so did many places all over this planet.

The door looked old and worn, but unlike most of the other buildings in the area, it was made of something hard, instead of the ragged cloth that tended to hang over most doorways. Obi-wan couldn't tell if it was duraplast or local wood as it had been painted an unappetizing mix of black and brown, but it swung open smoothly on oiled hinges (actual hinges! Obi-wan didn't think _anyone_ used such antiquated things anymore) with no creaking or serious resistance.

"I am the only person outside of the Nightsisters who is allowed into this room," he began as the shadows of the room's interior swallowed him. "Consider that your only warning."

Obi-wan refused to allow himself to gulp at the ominous words (truthfully, it was more the atmosphere than anything, he hadn't even been fazed by much worse). Without hesitating, he followed his instructor into the shadows just as Viscral turned on a dim light overhead. It illuminated a room lined with shelves on three sides, each shelf stuffed to the brim with a multitude of random objects ranging in variety from pots to statues. He saw several stacks of pebbles, piles of weapons and even clothing. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it all.

"Imbuing a Force Signature into a holocron is different than imbuing one into any other object because a holocron is made to record," Viscral started, walking around the room with muted steps and contemplating the different objects. "Light or dark, it is a residue of the person who made it. An intelligent recording, but simply a piece of that person and the remains of their connection to the Force," Viscral explained. Obi-wan yet again found it rather mind-blowing that this Zabarak who had been raised on such an outer-rim world would seem so well learned. He doubted Viscral would be out of place on any core world, but he'd also sparred (and the former Jedi used the term loosely) against the man too. He was vicious and merciless and it didn't take a genius to realize why he was in charge here.

It was the first time that Obi-wan realized he'd come across someone who knew almost as much about the Force as the Jedi, in his own way. Admittedly, all of his knowledge revolved around the dark side, and he wasn't always the most patient of teachers either, but he definitely knew what he was talking about, mostly through experience. It was strange to the former Jedi because he'd always just assumed that the Order was the authority on the Force and the Sith were the authority on the dark side. It hadn't occurred to him that other people, especially those from back-water worlds, would have as much knowledge at it seemed the Nightsisters and Viscral did. Even now, he found it difficult to wrap his head completely around the realization.

"You sound as if you speak from experience," Obi-wan commented, his thoughts returning to his mentor's recent comment on holocrons.

The zabarak shrugged. "Mother Talzin may have one or two. I was allowed to study one in any case."

The former Jedi wasn't sure what to think about that. "What was it about?"

The clan leader smiled maliciously. "Energy manipulation."

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow in surprise and curiosity. "Oh?"

"Yes. Perhaps she will also let you study it?"

The off-worlder frowned thoughtfully. "Is it a Sith holocron?"

Viscral seemed surprised at the question. "Yes."

"Then I will have to decline."

The Zabarak straightened from where he'd been leaning over a particularly ugly statue that seemed more abstract than anything.

"Your Jedi ways were amusing at first, but now they are only becoming tiresome."

Obi-wan rolled his eyes blatantly. "You mistake me. I would not refuse because I used to be a Jedi, I would do so because I hate the Sith. I want to see their order eradicated one way or another, and if I join them then that would make such a goal rather difficult. Thus I refuse to study them. It will only invite temptation."

Viscral studied Obi-wan for several seconds, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I know of your hatred for the Sith Lord, but for the Sith in general?"

Obi-wan couldn't help the slightly warning expression that fell over his face. "I killed Sidious' first apprentice myself after he killed my master. I killed Dooku myself after he began this war. Sidious was behind it all. He corrupts and subverts everything he touches and I refused to allow him to remain…" he faded off. He'd been about to say 'near those I hold dear' but figured that wouldn't go over well with the zabarak. Instead he folded his arms nonchalantly. "I have not cared for any Sith I have come across and feel the universe in general would benefit from a lack of their presence. I realize that the darkness will always rise just as the light will never die fully, but I would much rather leave the dark side to beings like you." He nodded towards the zabarak, leaving out that his reasoning had to do with the fact that such beings were more or less trapped on a planet and happy to be so.

To his surprise, Viscral burst out into a harsh, guttural laugh that didn't seem to suit him at all.

"So, little Jedi, this is all personal for you! How delightful!" He smiled viciously. "I may have misjudged you after all."

Obi-wan didn't respond as Viscral went back to studying the shelves and their contents. "You may still wish to study the holocron. Sith or not, it had some interesting ideas," he commented absently.

The former Jedi still didn't think he would, but didn't see much of a point in continuing the argument.

After several minutes, the Nightbrother collected a pile of random objects in his arms. He had a few weapons, some cloth (Obi-wan couldn't tell what it was supposed to be), several stones, something that looked vaguely like a vase of some sort, and a hairbrush of all things (and where in the universe had they gotten _that_? Neither the Nightsisters or the Nightbrothers had hair from what he'd observed). Viscral set the items down at the end of the room where the wall remained blank except for some strange paintings that made Obi-wan uneasy. He'd noticed them when he'd walked in, but his observation of Viscral had distracted him. Now he studied them openly.

"What is that?" he asked as he walked slowly towards Viscral, nodding towards the strange painting.

The Zabarak looked back at Obi-wan and then followed his gaze. "Ah, that is a magnifier of sorts. It, in and of itself, is a work of art in more ways than one." He reached a hand up and stroked the wall almost lovingly. "You have noticed some of the tattoos a few of the malings wear, I assume."

"Of course," Obi-wan said darkly. How could he forget them when they reminded him so strongly of the Sith that had killed his master? It had taken him a little while to realize it because none of them had the presence the former Sith had, but he was positive the now dead Zabarak had been born on this planet.

"I know the Sith have similar methods and can enhance the rudimentary tattoos we have knowledge of," Viscral went on almost as if he hadn't heard Obi-wan, still staring at the wall with fascination. "But the tattoos are a sort of visual aid for imbuing signatures. This wall…feel it." He gestured for Obi-wan to step forward.

Reluctantly, the human did as he was told and put a hand on the wall. He could tell that the darkness seeped from it, but it felt so different—so _foreign_—from anything he'd felt before.

"No, _feel_ it," Viscral said, his voice quiet. Obi-wan looked over to see the man had placed both of his hands on the wall and his forehead. It seemed like he was greeting a lover more than a painting.

Still wary, Obi-wan copied the other man's position and put both hands on the wall and then his forehead. Then he opened himself to the Force, and almost gasped.

"It's alive!" he said, stepping away from the wall, almost stumbling in his haste.

Viscral merely laughed again not moving from his position. "The darkness cannot create life. I do not even truly believe any aspect of the Force can. This masterpiece is not alive, it is simply a conduit for the Force. What you feel is not life itself, but the Force, which is born from life. It has been anchored here, and different aspects collect inside of it. That is what you sense."

Obi-wan eyed the wall uneasily. He could have sworn he'd felt a life force from this…thing. From an _inanimate_ object. After a few moments, curiosity got the better of him and he returned to the wall, placing both palms on it again and leaning his head forward, then reaching out to the darkness.

Pushing through the shock that rushed through him at the near sentience he felt flowing from the mural, he studied it further. Yes, he could see what Viscral meant. It wasn't life, but more like an echo, or a borrowing. Like someone took a dark soul and somehow trapped it inside the wall. It was connected to the Force and so it grew and expanded and changed like life, but it wasn't life. Not really.

"It has its own consciousness," he commented, feeling it brush against him, pulling more of the darkness out of him while simultaneously feeding it back twofold. He found it strangely compelling despite himself. It would be a shame such a connection would be broken when he stepped away again.

"To an extent," Viscral conceded. His voice sounded far away and Obi-wan seemed to feel it more than hear it. "But again, it is more because of aspects of the Force that are attracted to the signature here. That is how you create a force-sensitive object. You give it a signature."

Obi-wan opened his eyes and glanced over at the Zabarak. "How? If no life exists within the object—"

"Enough!" Viscral cut him off, then whirled around and picked up the vase with a sort of savage grace that didn't make sense to Obi-wan. Everything the man did seemed to contradict itself and yet he seemed to have obtained a sort of balance that shouldn't logically exist. "That is what you are here to learn.

"You know the difference between living and non-living material, correct."

Obi-wan frowned and stepped away from the wall, annoyed at the sudden lack of power. "Yes. For the most part, organic material—any material that comes from life—has carbon and can burn. Non-organic material usually has no carbon and doesn't burn. There are exceptions, but they are rare." Alright, that was oversimplifying it, but he had a suspicion that any answer he would have given would have been wrong.

"In the Force," Viscral stated dryly, his tone stating that he had very little patience remaining.

Obi-wan's frown deepened. "One has a signature, one doesn't."

"Wrong. One has a _natural_ signature and the other doesn't." He held the vase out to Obi-wan. "This is carved from the wood of a sacred tree. Can you feel it in the Force?"

Obi-wan closed his eyes and reached out, then he nodded. Organic material always had a presence in the Force, even if it held no current life and was just a trace. Non organic material either had an extremely weak signature, or none at all. That was how Jedi could walk through a black room flawlessly. One avoided anywhere the Force displaced because it would have to be an object of some sort. Organic things were easy to avoid. It took a little more concentration and training to find non-organics (easier to manipulate those though, because one simply had to mold the Force around the object, which became infinitely more difficult when said object had a presence of its own), but the technique was still taught at a very young age at the Temple and easy enough once one understood the basic principle.

"So I simply give it more of a presence?" Obi-wan asked, knowing it couldn't be that simple.

Viscral chuckled. "So to speak."

"And how does one go about accomplishing that?" he couldn't help but ask with just a touch of sarcasm.

Obi-wan got the distinct impression of the man being amused like one would be towards a child…again. It irritated him. He had always disliked being looked down upon and this was no exception.

"To begin you must have three things." He held up a hand and held up one finger for each necessity he listed. "First, you must have an object. 'Organic Material' as you put it, is easier to work with, but any substance will do to anyone who works to advance the technique. Second, you must have an anchor. I will discuss this more later, but there must be some way to bond the Force permanently to the object. Third, you must have an end-goal in mind. What would you want this vase to do?"

Silence fell over the room as Obi-wan stared blankly at the Zabarak.

"I beg your pardon?"

The other being rolled his eyes. "If one does not have a clear goal in mind, the signature will not hold to the anchor. You have to give the Force a _reason_ to stay, so to speak. Do you wish for whoever touches this vase to be rendered unconscious? Do you want it to scare the unwary away? Do you wish for it to provide a certain type of vision to a Force Sensitive? A non-sensitive? The possibilities are endless. It could act as an anchor point for a barrier. It could become a beacon that acts as a distraction. Use your head and figure something out."

With that, he tossed the vase at Obi-wan, who scrambled to catch it, but did so easily. For a moment, Obi-wan studied the vase. It was definitely something that could be passed off as aboriginal artwork, similar to things he'd seen in many a Senator's décor.

"What did you mean, when you said it could act as an anchor point for a barrier?"

"Too complicated. We will get to that that later," Viscral said, waving his hand as if to swat the idea away. "Think of something else."

Obi-wan shot the other a dry look before turning his attention back to the object in his hands and thinking for a moment. What would he need in the upcoming months? What would help him ultimately reach his goal of dethroning Palpatine and eradicating him?

And then the ideas came. He had no idea if any of them were plausible, but they were worth consideration at the very least. Ignoring Viscral, he whipped out his wrist com and opened a note-taking application. An item that suppressed one's Force signature without cutting it off would be more than useful. Something similar to the mural on the wall that could magnify his abilities would as well. A barrier behind which he could find that release Viscral had spoken of without alarming or tipping off either the Jedi or Palpatine. The idea of projecting an idea into a non-Force-sensative's mind had merit. So did the idea of being able to project something into a Force-user's mind. He thought back to that hated mask and then he froze.

The Sith Torture Mask had enhanced all of his negative thoughts and feelings by a hundred fold. Could he possibly do the opposite? Something that may even help him regain his connection to the light? Could he somehow overcome all of this with such a technique? He didn't dare hope…and yet, it was definitely something to think about.

Also, he knew he would have a problem with training once his plans came to fruition. Could he perhaps solve that with this method? Could he create something that would allow him to mentally traverse the distance between Eeropha (and later Coruscant) and Dathomir so he would not have to physically leave all the time? If he could, he was beginning to see why Viscral had said the possibilities were endless.

"An interesting list you have there, little Jedi," Viscral's voice muttered in Obi-wan's ear. He didn't jump (he'd known the zabarak was there) but he did frown at his own lack of attention to what the other man was doing—namely, reading over his shoulder.

"Very well," Viscral said after a moment. "Let us start with a basic enhancement. Whenever someone is touching this," he stroked the vase Obi-wan still held under his arm, "their connection to the Force will be enhanced. Once you master this, we will begin working on a basic block. Anyone touching that object should not be able to use or sense the Force."

Obi-wan frowned. "I doubt I would be able to use an object that I can continuously touch. There must be a way to expand the area of affect."

"Have you heard that you must learn to crawl before you walk?"

Obi-wan's frown deepened, but he nodded.

"You are beginning the stage of rolling over," Viscral said with dry amusement. "Now let us discuss anchors."

xXx

Basic anchors, as it turned out, consisted of microbes. Micro-organisms covered almost everything in the universe and every living thing supposedly had at least a small amount of medichlorians inside of them at one point or another; the higher the concentration of medichlorians, the better the chance of Force usage, and thus the larger the chance that the anchor would remain permanent. The microorganisms tended to transfer or die very quickly and easily in most cases, but the key there was to create a sort of bubble around the object that would encourage the medichlorians to remain there, even if the microorganisms left.

It was simply a matter of obtaining a good deal of medichlorians. Obi-wan did not like where that led, but it certainly explained some of the blood rituals he'd seen done on Dathomir (and maybe even other places). Still didn't mean he had to like it.

By the end of the day, though, he had already created his first magnifier. Viscral couldn't have been more pleased as he instructed Obi-wan to continue to see what he could do with the new skill. Then he left to inform Mother Talzin while Obi-wan went about studying his own work. It felt…crude at best, but on the up side, he also could not sense any lingering darkness in the object. It simply magnified, no matter what side of the Force one used…or at least he hoped so. He couldn't exactly check at the moment.

Still, he couldn't help but catch onto that and cling to it. Perhaps he wasn't so lost as he'd thought after all?

Such a state of mind was dangerous, especially there and then, but he couldn't help it. He still longed for the peace and calm of the light, no matter how much power the darkness gave to him—no matter how addicting the dark side was.

He considered the idea that imbued objects always simply existed once created and only gained a taint of light or dark after a great deal of usage. He knew of objects that could both support and refute the claim, so he sighed, not allowing himself to become upset or depressed at the thought. He couldn't allow himself to hope like that now, not when he knew how slim the chances of it being true were.

Forcibly, he put the vase down and contemplated the other objects in front of him. He'd better begin to work with completely non-organic things if he truly wanted to master this.

One rock in particular caught his eye. It was small and round and looked as if it had come from a riverbed. It had two lines running through it and the light broke on the dark surface. It reminded him of a stone he'd once received from his own master…one he'd given to Anakin long ago.

Almost without thinking, he reached out and picked the smooth stone up, turning it over in his hands before he began the process all over again. He would master this.

He had to.

xXx

A/N: Bit of a slow chapter, but don't worry, it'll start picking up again here soon.

Also, I would love for everyone to give Windona a hand for beta reading. I really appreciate what she does!


	17. Chapter 17

_When I started to actually have success controlling my emotions again, I thought that I was making progress. Now I just think that my soul simply couldn't handle what I put it through—the weight and pain associated with all of that guilt and shame. It had to bend or break or _evolve,_ and not necessarily in a good way. Subconsciously, I was slowly getting used to being in that state. I began to find my situation comfortable because it had become familiar, and that familiarity was something I had subconsciously begun to use. Comfort doesn't always equate to painlessness or happiness (although most of the universe seems to think it does). So many beings in the universe remain where they are physically, emotionally or mentally because they fear the unknown and comfort is almost always found in the familiar. Once the unknown becomes common, then complacency begins to set in. _

_I have come to the conclusion that there is no more dangerous state to be in. _

Jedi Master Ki-Adi-Mundi looked down at the request the Temple had received thoughtfully. It had yet to go before the Council, but he wanted to meditate on it anyway. Usually the Temple turned down such requests, preferring to remain aloof and distant, but this time, when the Galaxy was so split and vulnerable, perhaps it was time to change that. It would inform so many worlds of the truth and help them understand just how dire the situation had become. Perhaps this was no longer simply a Jedi matter.

And perhaps, this was the perfect opportunity to test that.

xXx

Obi-wan studied the maps of the complex for what could have been the hundredth time, searching for flaws in the system he'd created. He'd more or less eradicated almost all of them between the updated patrols and the training sessions he personally oversaw. That didn't mean they didn't exist, and one couldn't ever be too careful.

"Ah, there you are," the voice of his employer followed the whooshing sound of a door behind him. He didn't flinch. He'd felt the man coming. Instead, he continued to stroke the small beard he'd begun to grow. He'd decided to take Amyn'rah's advice and just grow a go-t, which still annoyed him to no end, but it felt good to have something there to stroke again.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Forra?" Obi-wan asked as he shut down the hologram of the schematics and turned to face the senatorial candidate. The man regarded him thoughtfully for several seconds, standing with a smugness that did not speak of anything Obi-wan would appreciate.

"I just got some news regarding your Jedi friends," he finally said, taking a step forward and waving a hand in a slow, nonchalant gesture. "Apparently their temple was broken into and a holo-recording of some sort stolen. One that can only be activated by Jedi."

Obi-wan felt his face pale. "A holocron?"

Forra nodded. "Yes, I believe that is what it was. Nice to know the Jedi aren't infallible."

Obi-wan felt his jaw tighten. Anything could have been on the holocron, and none of what it could have been potentially it spoke well for the Temple. And if something happened to the Temple, then Anakin would be in danger…

He forced himself to calm down and shrugged noncommittally. Then he returned his attention to the computer console he'd been staring at when Forra had come in. "I told you before. Jedi are sentients and have weaknesses and strengths, just like any other race. No one is infallible. It just takes time and dedication to find a weakness.

"Do you know what kind of information was stolen?"

The former Jedi saw Forra shake his head out of the corner of his eye. "My contacts are good, but not that good. The Jedi are keeping that guarded pretty closely. I did hear, though, that not long after the incident, the Separatists attacked the Devron system."

Obi-wan didn't turn around, but he did stiffen. Ropal. They had to be after Ropal. Obi-wan had spoken to the Master before he'd been sent to the Devron system to safeguard a memory crystal that dealt with…

"Oh, Force," he breathed. The younglings. The Separatists were after the Jedi younglings.

It bothered him that the first real reaction to that realization after the general shock was respect. He was impressed that they'd come up with the idea to begin with, let alone pulled it off. The problem was that he knew Sidious had to be behind it somewhere. It only made sense…and he did _not_ want to feel anything akin to respect for that man.

Thankfully, Forra didn't hear his whisper and continued. "A few Jedi were almost killed in the ensuing battle. One Anakin Skywalker—Hero with No Fear—and his Padawan. Jedi Master Ropal was killed from the reports I've received."

He didn't like that his suspicions had been confirmed. It hurt, and that both surprised and pleased him. It still hurt to lose someone he hadn't seen in months—over a year in reality—and yet knowing that someone he'd once been close to had been killed still got to him. Part of him couldn't help but feel a great deal of relief at the sudden recognition. Another part of him had to wonder why it hurt so much when he'd been able to handle far closer deaths much better. He clenched his hands and grit his teeth, willing the sudden rush of the dark side responding to his pain away. It didn't work. All he could think about was how Anakin and Ahsoka had almost been killed and his old friend…

He forced his mind away from that line of thinking. It took a few moments, but he was able to finally relax enough to where he could trust himself to speak. Sometimes it amazed him as to how far he'd come in only a year's time. At other points he felt as if he wouldn't ever get the hang of this at all (and still others, he wondered if he really wanted to).

"Does anyone know who was behind it all?" He forced casualness into his voice, hoping beyond hope that the politician didn't notice. He still had a _long_ way to go before he could go up against Palpatine. He'd better start making headway in his acting abilities or revenge would be much too far off to be remotely plausible.

And since when had it turned into revenge instead of protecting the galaxy? And why did that only mildly bother him?

"Well, there are speculations, but the most likely candidate is Cad Bane—notorious bounty hunter even here. He's supposed to be one of the best."

And then something else occurred to Obi-wan. Why had Forra volunteered the information? Without asking for anything in return at all. That didn't strike him as anything the politician would do, even to his chief of security.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked slowly, turning his chair to face the man again, carefully keeping his face and body-language neutral.

The man laughed. "Please, General Kenobi. You must have known that we would eventually find out, even with the precautions you used to try and disguise your face."

Kriff. It looked like he would have to do something a bit more drastic with his facial alterations. He still didn't like the idea of changing his looks so completely. Or anything that had originally been Obi-wan, really. Maybe he was just resistant to change.

"My guess," Forra said as he tapped his chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness, "is that you staged your own death so you could infiltrate the Senate and find the Sith. Am I right?"

Close, but no. Still, Forra didn't need to know that.

"You have me," he said, holding up his hands. He saw little point in trying to deny his identity at this point. In the long run, it only mattered if his cover was blown to Palpatine. "What happens now, then?"

Forra stood in his expensive-looking robes, studying the former Jedi before him thoughtfully.

"Nothing," he said finally. "Obviously you think that any crimes in my past are dismissible if you decided to work under me. As long as that stays true, then I don't see a need to do anything differently than we have been."

Obi-wan regarded the other man for a moment before he nodded. "I did not come here with the intention of arresting you. Whatever crimes you have committed are against your own world, not the Republic at large or the Jedi. At least not as far as we know."

The senatorial candidate raised both hands in surrender. "I have nothing against Jedi, personally. I'm not Sauro. I must admit, though, you almost threw me off with your show of power back at the beginning. I didn't even suspect that you were a Jedi until just recently. Very clever."

_You know nothing,_ Obi-wan thought. Forra was quickly becoming a nuisance causing more trouble than he was worth. He'd have to make sure to step up his efforts for his latest attempts involving Force-sensitive objects so he could put the plans that would end this unfortunate alliance permanently.

"Well," Forra said with an uncaring shrug. "I'm guessing you want to take another leave of absence."

Obi-wan nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps I will," he said.

"I will make arrangements," Forra replied. "Farewell, Master Kenobi."

"I would prefer that you still call me Kurashohi," Obi-wan said after him.

"Yes, yes. Very well, Mr. Kurashohi. Keep up the good work."

Obi-wan watched as the door closed and Ashid Forra's retreating figure was cut off from his view.

After a moment, he reached out with the Force and brought the bag that had been leaning against the wall to him. He searched through it and found the responder to the chip he'd placed on the man's person just a few days prior. It was working properly. Good. The man seemed to want him off of the planet rather quickly. That meant he was up to something that he didn't want a 'Jedi' to witness.

He also rechecked the security bot he'd had following Forra around. Yes, still running and supposedly undetected for now. At first he'd thought that this would be a good warm-up for spying on Palpatine, but after several weeks of work and not having to replace the spying devices more than what he felt would be necessary for maintenance, he suspected the Chancellor (and Sith Lord) would be much more difficult to pin down. Really, this was child's play. It had been quite the disappointment.

With that out of the way, he returned his focus to the information he'd only just received from his 'employer'. It went beyond troubling. He'd need to meditate on this.

Closing his eyes, he assumed a meditative pose. He concentrated on the anger he'd felt when he'd heard about Anakin, Ahsoka and Ropal, on his fear for the former two lives and his sorrow at the loss of the third. He grasped the power that rushed to him like a pet waiting for its master and then he focused on the name he'd been given. Cad Bane.

An image swam before his eyes: a world with marshlands and swamps and domed cities and a screaming child…screaming and yelling and calling out both in the Force and aloud. The child's fear hit Obi-wan like a rolling wave of Kamino's seas, strengthening him and—

His eyes shot open.

"Rodia," he muttered to himself. That was where he would be able to find this Bounty Hunter. A thrill ran through him at the prospect of just what he wanted to do to the man. He ignored the stiffness and soreness that seemed to come after visions these days (something he had figured he would just have to live with, after all dark side visions almost always came with pain) and prepared to leave. Somehow he felt that if he didn't do this personally, the Jedi would completely mishandle it.

Which, he realized in retrospect, was a rather strange conclusion he seemed to have come to when he'd been so devastated by one of their deaths only moments before.

Sighing, he decided not to dwell on it and continued his preparations. There were people he had to inform and supplies he had to gather, after all.

xXx

He knew the bounty hunter was there the moment he fell out of hyperspace. He didn't know exactly _how_ he knew (the guy had the Force sensitivity of a droid), but Cad Bane was there. It probably had to do with the way the dark side seemed to almost freeze in anticipation.

His first instinct was to land and race for the door of the apartment from his vision, but a subtle (well, for the dark side) nudge from the Force had him looking over at a small veranda that served as both a private landing pad and a balcony of sorts. There was a small, single passenger ship resting on it.

That had to be Bane's.

He quickly formed a plan as he casually set his own ship down on another nearby veranda. A Rodian man rose from the bench he'd been sitting on and came towards him angrily.

"Just what do you think you are—" he started, but Obi-wan cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"I won't be here long. This will be fine."

The large, bug-like eyes clouded over. "Well, if you won't be here long, this will be fine." He turned and reentered his house, leaving Obi-wan to feel the situation out. From the alertness he could sense from the apartment (and a light in the Force, bright and beautiful and so painful to feel out—when had the light become painful?), Bane was aware of his landing, but not suspicious. Wary but still at ease.

Good.

Everything matched his vision; the timbre of the light, the size of the dome, the general feeling, yes, he was sure he had the right place.

Carefully, he sneaked onto the chosen veranda and the personal ship that rested there. It looked like a one-man craft but he could see several…less than legal upgrades that had been added. If this managed to get into the air, Obi-wan wouldn't have a chance at stopping it.

So he slid silently up to the ship, feeling to see if Bane (or anyone in the apartment for that matter) became more wary. He felt a lot of tension in there, but no spikes that tended to prelude either an escape or defense towards a perceived threat.

In minutes, he was tinkering inside the vehicle. He wasn't Anakin. He didn't know mechanics inside and out, but he was proficient enough to know that if he took this tube out, and disconnected those wires, and removed that bolt…

Then he felt something else. Another nudge through the Force (practically a slap to the face) had him glancing up to see another ship float down. A Jedi was on that ship. Obi-wan watched the ship with both longing and jealousy for just a moment before he clamped down on his presence in the Force. He hoped his shields would be good enough to keep the Jedi—a familiar one too—from noticing him. He still didn't have the most control in that area unless he could dedicate all of his focus to it. He couldn't do that here. After a little more tinkering, he figured that would be good enough. Then he turned and leapt onto the balcony with his ship and ducked behind it. Just as the third ship landed, a figure in a Jedi robe walked out of the apartment holding a baby.

Obi-wan's eyes narrowed but he did nothing as the figure—who had to be Bane—hopped into his ship and prepared to take off. When the ship didn't start, he didn't waste time cursing or pleading with the machinery, he simply looked for another way out. Then he glanced up at the apartment. Only then did he curse. The Jedi must have arrived.

Bane glanced around again, his actions hurried but not frantic. Then he seemed to spot Obi-wan's ship. That quickly, the false Jedi had jumped out of his ship and was bounding across the shrubbery that separated that veranda from Obi-wan's own.

"Oh, no you don't," Obi-wan growled under his breath. Just as the figure climbed to the top and went to swing a leg into the cockpit, the Former Jedi reached out with the Force, clamping it around the man's neck. Bane froze, his hood falling down and revealing a strange, blue-skinned humanoid with no nose. He looked an awful lot like a race Obi-wan had run into once called the Chiss, but not quite.

Then, before Obi-wan could do anything, Bane dropped the baby, choosing instead to use both hands to try and pry off the invisible pressure on his neck. The baby's panic hit Obi-wan like a rolling wave, the simple but powerful emotion of fear strengthening his own dark feelings and consequently deepening his connection to the Force. It was a good thing too because he was able to use that to reach out and stop the baby from hitting the ground. He didn't notice that his grasp on the bounty hunter's throat had lessened somewhat, or that Bane seemed to have found enough presence of mind to take out a blaster. All he felt was a warning nudge in the Force.

Just as the baby gently touched the ground, still crying and screaming in fear, Obi-wan dove to the side, having to release Bane's throat as he did. It wasn't something he consciously wanted to do, but his concentration and control (especially of the dark side) could only go so far at this point. He glanced up to see Bane relax and rub his throat for just a moment as he gasped for breath. Before the blue-skinned being could do anything else, though, another voice sounded, distracting both of them.

"Cad Bane!" Plo Koon stood just outside of the door on the opposing veranda. Bane took one look and then turned to jump into the pilot seat, but could only get that far before Obi-wan appeared beside him, grabbing the bounty hunter by the cuff of shirt.

"You are lucky he is here," Obi-wan hissed angrily. "Because now you get to live."

With that, he reached out with the Force and tried something he hadn't tried since the day he'd fallen. It was a sleep suggestion…or would have been if he'd been light. Instead, the light seemed to fade from the being's eyes and he fell limp and unconscious.

"That was…useful," Obi-wan commented to himself, feeling a sort of dark amusement creep over his thoughts.

The baby's cry had moved, and the Darksider glanced up just in time to see the little boy land in his mother's arms, courtesy of Plo Koon. Obi-wan was positive the Jedi had seen him use the Force, whether he could feel it or not, and so figured there was little use in continuing to hide.

"Here, Plo," he called out, his voice suddenly weary. He had not wanted a confrontation here.

"Obi-wan," the masked Jedi said warily as he ushered the mother and child inside behind him. He seemed surprised. Probably because Obi-wan still had the hood he liked to wear up. He'd known that Plo would be able to recognize him through the sound of his voice. "Were you behind this?"

The darksider frowned. "Behind what? The holocron and this…thing?" he asked disdainfully as he looked at the unconscious man he still held dangling out to the side of the ship. "No. Actually I only just heard about it and thought I might be able to help. A vision led me here."

He used the Force and let go of Cad Bane as he went flying limply over towards the Jedi Master. As Obi-wan had predicted, Plo was able to catch the criminal with the Force before lowering him to the ground. Sighing, Obi-wan jumped into his ship's cockpit.

"Obi-wan, wait!" Plo called after him. The Darksider paused and glanced uneasily at his former friend. "Can't you come back to the Temple? You're needed there."

Obi-wan sighed. "I'm needed here too, Plo."

"Anakin needs you."

Obi-wan froze. A million terrible thoughts rushed through his head, each one worse than the last. Had Palpatine lost patience? Had something happened in the war? What about little Ahsoka? Was she alright?

"What happened?" he asked grimly.

Plo regarded him for a few moments and seemed to relax ever so slightly. "You left."

Obi-wan could only blink down at the Council Member. "What?"

Plo shook his head sadly. "He's lost without you, Obi-wan. I fear for his life and his soul."

The darksider let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Surprisingly he felt no anger at the unintentional deception. He only felt relief at that moment.

"He told you, then."

The masked Jedi seemed confused at Obi-wan's statement.

"He told us of you leaving and of your confrontation on Mandalore. He also said that you had met little 'Soka on the Devistator."

And that quickly, Obi-wan's relief vanished, replaced once again by the weariness. "He didn't tell you. Oh, Anakin."

"What was he supposed to tell us?" Plo asked, his voice cautious as he took another tentative step towards Obi-wan.

"That…isn't for me to say. If he isn't the one to tell you, then he will be lost. I fear for him too, more than you can ever know." He put a hand to his head and massaged his eyes, especially his nose bridge. He could feel a headache coming on. Why did his Padawan always do this to him? "That is why I cannot come back. Not yet."

Plo sighed. "Why not, Obi-wan? We can help you."

"Because the Sith isn't dead. I can't come back until he is."

"Why, Obi-wan?" the Council Member asked again.

"The Jedi are too close to the situation—too blind. How can you do anything against the Sith if you cannot even see through his disguise?" Obi-wan said as he clenched his hands at his sides, willing the anger that always appeared with the mention of Palpatine away.

Plo wasn't dissuaded. He never had been one to back down easily. "Then tell us who he is!"

Obi-wan shook his head. "I already did. When I spoke to Mace."

The older Jedi regarded the former member with a steady gaze for several seconds. "What makes you think that you alone can do anything? If he is indeed as powerful as you suggest, why not have the Jedi's support behind you?"

To that, Obi-wan could only smile sadly. "Because it never will be. Not completely. The Jedi will have to lose their complacency before they can save the Republic…and themselves. I have a plan, and I will see it through."

Plo could only seem to shake his head at that. "Have you become so arrogant?"

Obi-wan refused to acknowledge the anger that bubbled up at his comment. "Not arrogance, Plo, desperation."

The older Jedi either realized that Obi-wan couldn't be argued with at the moment, or he didn't know what to say because he slumped in a manner that was very unlike the Council Member Obi-wan remembered. He stood silently as the former Jedi lowered himself into his ship and prepared to take off.

"I could stop you, you know. A lightsaber cuts through a ship's hull easily enough."

Obi-wan paused. "Then why don't you?" he asked.

It had always been hard to read Plo Koon's expressions. The man had a mask covering the bottom of his face and eyes, after all. His species didn't do well in high concentrations of oxygen. As such, his emotions couldn't be conveyed through his eyes and mouth.

Or, at least, that was what Obi-wan had always thought. The sense of sadness he got from the older Jedi now seemed to undermine that belief.

"Because you don't want help," he said. "Forcing you to return at this point would do you no good, even if it might help Anakin and the other Jedi who knew you."

Obi-wan closed his eyes and slumped in his seat. "You're wrong, Plo. I do want help. But we both know the teachings. Once you begin down the dark path, it will forever dominate your destiny. The light doesn't want me anymore."

"Oh, Obi-wan," Plo breathed, and the former Jedi could have sworn the man was on the brink of tears (if his species could cry, Obi-wan wasn't sure). "Do you really think so little of yourself to honestly believe that?"

Bitterness rose inside of him at that. First he was arrogant and now he didn't have any believe in himself? And did they really think that this was a continual choice on his part? Out of pride or some sort of mistaken thinking that the dark would help him more? The Jedi really were blind.

"Goodbye, Plo. Tell Anakin…" he paused, unsure of what he wanted to tell his former Padawan. "Tell Anakin that I have a plan, and that he will be safe soon."

"Will he?" Plo asked.

Obi-wan sighed. It seemed he wasn't the only one who was determined to stick with his opinion until the end.

"I hope so," he managed to say, although he wasn't sure as to whether it was to himself or to his former friend and ally.

Plo let him go. The Jedi just sat there and watched as Obi-wan closed the cockpit and shot out of the dome. Fifteen minutes later, he left the atmosphere and calculated a jump into hyperspace. Half an hour after that, Plo Koon did the same with Cad Bane's ship in tow.

xXx

Thanks to Windona. Catching up to where I've finished writing...just a warning, guys.


	18. Chapter 18

'_When you hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up.' That was a phrase that I heard fairly often as an initiate and as a padawan. It gave me hope then, but now I see that one person's 'rock bottom' is another person's high point. One can always move up just as one can always go lower. I, for instance, hit my rock bottom long ago and have been digging ever since. My shaft was too steep to climb out of from the beginning and so the only way I can go is down._

_I have known this almost from the moment I fell and I used to resent this fact. So why has it stopped bothering me lately?_

The tiny, drab room had almost no means of light other than the candles that had been brought in and whatever came from the cracks under the door. That had been why Obi-wan had chosen this space. He needed privacy and couldn't afford distractions.

It had taken the fallen Jedi a while to find a machine that could produce the pressure necessary for his endeavor, but he had found one that he could modify with his rather meager skills. He'd grown tired of fighting with a crystal in his lightsaber that hindered him more than it helped him. He knew he'd needed a different case for a while as well, and he'd recently gotten inspired with his exploration into imbuing Force in objects. He now had a general idea of where to go with the handle and grip. It all came down to the fact that he needed something he could hide for when he would infiltrate the Senate, something he could keep close at hand while having it look completely inconspicuous. Something he could get to and put away quickly.

So he sat and meditated, face twisted into one of simultaneous pain and awe as he bonded through the wild darkness with the crystal that had begun to form inside of the machine.

He had come across the method of artificially making a lightsaber crystal more than a few times as a padawan and even more often as a knight, but the process had been discouraged for centuries as it had become both unnecessary and more often used by the Sith (and other people who couldn't access the mines of Ilum or the other planets where natural crystals formed). Now, as he connected to the energy inside the machine and shaped it—almost without meaning to—he could see why those who sought power had come to favor this method. This crystal would be completely attuned to him, and it wouldn't be some random formation that he happened to be compatible with, but one that was made specifically for the uses he'd planned for.

As the crystal sang through the darkness to him, drawing him in, he began to wonder why the Jedi seemed to look down on the idea of artificially creating a crystal. It couldn't be a simple case of shunning power, could it? No, he felt there was more to it, and he suspected it had to do with associating the artificial crystals with the dark side. But just because they weren't natural didn't mean they were inherently dark. No, he could see how building a crystal like this could help Jedi too. Did they really fear the Sith and the dark side that much that they would forsake this method simply to avoid having anything more in common with them? He almost scoffed mentally at that. Of course they did. Well, their loss.

It would take a while yet to completely finish the crystal and it took all of his will to keep his anticipation in check. Well, that and knowing that rushing anything more often than not led to imperfections in the finished product. Still, he wanted to have his partner back. He needed a lightsaber that was an extension of himself again.

He looked forward to getting started on the shaft as well. It would have to be made of a material that resisted scans, and thus would be suspect in many cases, but he already had several ideas as to how to get around that. It would have to be artistic and functional; obvious and yet inconspicuous because he would have to hide it in plain sight in front of both Jedi and Sith.

The former Jedi's expression of discomfort began to relax as his mind and body grew used to the pain the darkness inflicted. He could hardly contain his anticipation as he continued his meditation.

xXx

It took three days for the crystal to form completely. In that time, Obi-wan didn't leave the chamber he'd confiscated once. He didn't sleep and he didn't eat and Amyn'rah would have his head the next time he went in for a skin treatment, but it had been worth it.

The creation of the shaft, as was often the case in his experience, took only half the time it had taken to make the crystal, but he couldn't help but be more than a little proud of the results. It wasn't completely finished, but he would spend more time completing his little work of art later.

When he finally reached a point where he felt he could stop, he exited the chamber with the sleek, black shaft in his hand. It looked completely smooth to the naked eye and dealt with pressure points more than the traditional switches, knobs or buttons. It had a sharp, sleek taper at one end and, in all actuality, looked more like a black icicle than it did a lightsaber.

It was perfect.

Savage and Feral met him almost the moment he stepped (stumbled) out of the doorway and into the fading Dathomirian sunlight, asking him if they could see his new creation. He saw through their act. They'd been worried in their own, twisted way, but he saw no harm in acquiescing nonetheless.

He began with a quick explanation on how the crystal focused the laser energies fed into it and how each lightsaber held a different focus—some of them not even crystals. He told them how one could see a Force-user's true self if they could examine that person's lightsaber. They each touched it and commented on how it felt like a sleeping gundark—full of power, but hidden. It was exactly what he'd wanted to hear.

He also told them with a proud grin that his new weapon was by no means conventional. Then he showed them. Just the right touch at just the right placement and the red-violet blade shot to life. Of course they asked many questions and he answered them with as much patience as he could muster (seeing as he had practically starved himself for almost an entire standard week and had had almost no sleep, he felt they should be thankful for the terse answers they received).

Feral, being the intelligent little slave he was, asked about the color difference at one point. It took a few seconds for Obi-wan to contemplate his question before he told them that because it was an artificial crystal, the color had no meaning. He didn't tell them that artificial lightsaber crystals tended to default to red (a color that rarely if ever formed natural crystals) and it took special additions to change that color during the processing. He didn't tell them that he'd actively tried to change the color—that he'd wanted anything but red and that he'd been going for another blue saber, but the dark side seemed to have other ideas.

He didn't tell them that the symbolism of the color didn't disappoint him like it should have—that it was a representation of how he had already almost completely given himself over to the darkness no matter how hard he'd originally fought.

He did explain, with a great deal of tolerance if he did say so himself, how the blade sang to him, encouraging him and moving with him instead of hindering him as his old blade had begun to do.

And finally, upon request, he handed his old blade over to Feral with hardly another thought and walked away. He had places to be and plans to continue to orchestrate. His current 'vacation' would last for another four days, and he had techniques to master at the very least.

xXx

Feral and Savage watched the former Jedi walk away in silence, both recognizing that they had been pushing him and that going after him in this state (for any reason short of preventing death) would be asking for a severe beating at the very least. They'd been lucky he'd answered as many questions as he had.

Finally Feral spoke. "He keeps changing."

Savage, never one for words, grunted in acknowledgment. His brother, having had to interpret his lack of communication for as long as he could remember, responded as if he had spoken a complete sentence.

"No, I didn't expect any different but…it's just not what I expected, I guess, to actually see it." Then he looked down at the shaft the human had placed in his hand. This had been the man's weapon—practically a companion, if he'd understood the former Jedi's implications correctly—for more than a decade and he'd practically just thrown it away.

Feral felt Savage's stare and looked up to meet his brother's amber eyes. "He doesn't mean to change—he doesn't want to change. Just being here is forcing him to do so. He's…as much of a slave as we are, and he knows it. He just serves the darkness directly."

Savage scoffed. "You think too much."

"Do I?" Feral asked quietly, hands closing around the lightsaber. "I've come to think through watching him that we are not unwilling servants to only the Nightsisters."

His brother's eyes narrowed and his frown deepened. It made the tattoos on his face look even more menacing, but Feral was used to it.

"I don't want to be a slave," the younger brother said finally, eyes hardening in determination and jaw set firmly.

He expected the confusion he saw in Savage's expression then. "What are you going to do, then?"

Feral looked down at the lightsaber and prodded at it with the Force. It responded by practically bursting forth with light, easily chasing the darkness away. No wonder it had fought its former Master.

The line Obi-wan had spoken just a few minutes before ran through his mind. "You can come to know and understand a Force-user's true self if you have the opportunity to examine that person's lightsaber in depth." The new lightsaber that Feral had felt seemed more like a hidden predator waiting to strike and destroy everything it touched. It was the weapon of one seeking vengeance. The blade in his hand, though…

He prodded it again and examined how it calmly defended against the darkness, evaded the attack in a manner far less direct than Feral was used to. This was the weapon of a defender—a protector. He could just imagine the man that had once wielded this blade, and it was nothing like the man who had just left the two brothers. And yet…it was.

"Feral?" Savage spoke again, a slight note of worry in his voice.

The younger zabarak looked up at his brother again. "I'm going to learn to use this."

Savage blinked at his sibling in surprise. "But you can't. It's a light weapon. You…how would you? You can't. It isn't possible."

Feral began to walk away, his pose confident and determined. "I will make it possible."

"Why do you want to?" Savage asked, hurrying after his companion's retreating form. "It makes no sense! This won't bring you the power we need to escape!"

"We don't need power. We'll never have more power than the Nightsisters. We need something else."

At his side, Savage growled. "What?"

Feral paused for a moment, looking down at the saber again. "I don't know. Just something."

"And how do you know learning to use that particular weapon will help?"

The younger brother raised an eyebrow at his brother's unusually eloquent phrasing. "I don't. It just…feels right."

He didn't say that the idea of this weapon being set aside somehow brought forth sadness inside of him—that the blade itself somehow felt like it mourned a loss. The man who had wielded this lightsaber was no more, but for the first time in his life, Feral had learned of someone who he felt he could truly throw himself into emulating. He had a direction, something to aspire to other than escape.

He would become worthy of wielding this blade, even if he had to forsake every belief he'd grown up with to do so.

xXx

"Enough!" A blue hologram said firmly and Grievous froze, lightsabers inches away from their target, and he backed away slowly from the large figure that had fallen to the ground in front of him. He did not look happy about doing so.

Pong Krell, now Darth Parfidio, heaved in breaths on the ground as he glared angrily up at the cyborg. His reptilian eyes shown yellow and red with anger and the dark side, and yet he had been defeated again by the non-sensitive who still ran a good deal of their Master's army. It was nothing short of humiliating, and he hated it.

He wanted to rush the abomination, to tear it limb from limb and gloat as it yelled and screamed feebly for mercy. Yet, he remained where he had fallen, only moving to come to his knees before the blue specter that was the Sith Master.

"You disappoint me, my apprentice. It would seem that you need more training."

Parfidio grit his teeth, but nodded anyway. "Yes, my master."

"Have you looked through the instructions I sent you?" The new Sith hated how is master seemed so utterly condescending while saying something so neutral.

"Of course, master."

"Hmm. I see. I expect better when General Grievous visits again."

The lightsaber handle in the grip of his right, upper hand—the only one he'd been able to keep ahold of—squeaked in protest as his fingers clenched tightly around it.

"Yes, my master," was all he could bring himself to say.

Grievous only chuckled cruelly as he walked out of the room. "You are weak, Jedi. Dooku was much stronger than you will ever be."

The former Jedi whipped his head up in anger, staring past the blue image of his master to the retreating form of the abomination.

"I am a Sith Lord!" he yelled back, but Grievous had already left, still laughing.

"Good, good. Allow your hate to make you powerful," Sidious advised, his lips having taken that creepy, hungry grin that he seemed to display whenever he saw something with potential.

"I will, my master," Parfidio responded as he returned to his subservient position, bowing his head even lower than before.

"Good." Was all the Sith Master said before the hologram cut off.

The Sith formerly known as Jedi Pong Krell rose to his feet and immediately began to train in the new forms he'd been taught. He would show them—all of them—just how powerful he could be! He would do more than just survive this war, he would dominate it! And no one, not even Darth Sidious, could stop him now.

xXx

The Jedi Council sat in a sort of mute shock as they listened to Ki-Adi-Mundi's proposal. No one had expected this of the man (or of anyone else really). Not even Master Yoda had seen this coming.

When he finally finished his calm presentation, he took a bow and sat back in his seat as he waited for the objections to begin. He expected no small amount, and he was most certainly not disappointed.

"Why are you proposing this now?" Mace Windu asked tersely as his holographic form faded and fizzled every few seconds with the interference that came with long-distance space communications. "We are in the middle of a war and have little time to give towards other, less necessary pursuits."

Ki acknowledged his point with a nod of his head before rebutting. "I do believe it is necessary. People know a little of what the Sith have done in the past, but they do not really understand how having a Sith in the Senate relates to them. Informing the Galaxy should help them to understand why the Jedi Order is so disturbed by this news. In the long run, I hope to gather support over this."

"So you feel this will help the war effort as well as undermine the Sith's power," Adi Gallia said thoughtfully as she tapped her chin.

"But rare, it is, that know, we do, how react, the public will," Master Yoda said quietly, speaking for the first time that meeting.

"And there will be a response to this if we go through with it," Oppo Rancis' voice seemed even quieter than Master Yoda's but his words rang strong and clear. "It may not be a positive response."

Ki-Adi-Mundi glanced over at Oppo and stared at him for several seconds, as if trying to decide whether he should say something. Finally, he did.

"It may not be well received. But then, it may. At the very least, it will give the truth to the universe."

"If agree to this, we do," Master Yoda spoke up, hands and chin resting heavily on his gimmer stick which he'd set in front of him, "a response, the Sith will have."

"Won't the Sith try and prevent this from being viewed at all?" Saesee Tiin asked thoughtfully. "Surely he will hear of it as well and endeavor to do something to stop such and event."

Ki agreed. "Yes. The Sith have already been exposed in a negative light. They would undoubtedly do everything they could to stop even more negative attention. However, I believe our efforts will be worth it as their moves in the Senate will be far more difficult to make if the rest of the Galaxy is aware of their general motives."

Several masters nodded in approval.

"For many years, kept to ourselves, we have," Master Yoda said, his voice neutral, just pointing out the facts. "Reasons, we have, for this."

"Yes," Adi Gallia spoke next, sitting with her back straight and looking regal in her chair. "But many of those reasons had to do with the Republic trying to interfere in our internal affairs."

"Which they are still trying to do," Sassee Tiin pointed out. "And they have somewhat justified reasons seeing as they have appointed us to be in charge of their army."

No one spoke up at that as it had been a rather sore subject between the Council members for a while now and very few would sway their opinion at this point.

"Hmm. Perhaps cut off we have been for far too long," Master Yoda said thoughtfully. Then he turned to Ki. "If agree we do, your idea this is. Deal with the consequences, you must and pledge to see it through to the end, you must."

The blue-eyed master frowned at that and remained quiet for several seconds as he contemplated the ramifications this could have. He wouldn't be getting any sort of leeway for this. He would have to take this on top of his other duties already. It would not make for an easy assignment. Then again, nothing easy was worth pursuing. He'd known that for years and was not about to forget it now.

"I understand," he finally said, bowing his head in deference. "As I believe it will help our cause more than it will hurt, I will oversee this project personally. I know that there will be many opportunities for this to turn on us, and I will keep that in mind."

"Then my permission, I give you. Now, put it to a vote, we will," Master Yoda said with a firm nod of his head.

Surprisingly, Ki-Adi-Mundi walked out with the permission he'd only dared hope for.

xXx

"Yes," Viscral's voice barely registered in Obi-wan's mind, but the general approval rang loud and clear. He acknowledged it with more than a little annoyance before dismissing it and turning his attention back to the task at hand. He had to learn how to shield himself; how to make the shields that would stop anyone—even Darth Sidious—from sensing his presence and he almost had it…

"Mold it to your whims. Force it to do as you will," Viscral continued. Obi-wan grit his teeth. He knew that! So he just had to figure out how to make the signature of the third object he'd been working with mesh with the other two. How could he, though? He'd learned that each imbued object had a sort of frequency in the Force. The frequency of the first two objects he'd created worked on almost the exact wavelength (something that happened commonly enough, apparently, because it was easier for one person to have a sort of default frequency that tuned into them). However, if he created a third, as he had tried to do before, all of the objects had shattered, unable to handle so much power running through them. Apparently that happened to all but the absolute strongest of materials.

The problem was, Viscral had said that most shields come in threes and fours. So how was he to make these objects work with one another—make them responded to each other instead of working against each other.

He'd already brought up the idea of using a different medium—different blood from a different person—to create these. However, Viscral had informed him that finding two sentients that fit like that in the universe was nearly impossible. Many a darksider had died trying that method.

So he somehow had to change the frequency…but how? He checked the other two, happy with their thrumming signature but still frustrated at the obvious gaps in power and finality and…wait…

Perhaps he was going about this all wrong. The Force, both dark and light, was transmitted through the medichlorians. So what if, instead of fine-tuning the frequency, what if he changed it altogether? Straight to the source…

And so he tore through what he'd been so steadily building and then he focused on the smallest, most basic level possible, and pushed. It happened slowly at first, very reluctantly, but after a moment, the darkness rushed through him and into the statue, rearranging the signature. He couldn't lose concentration for an instant, he realized, willing himself to focus more on steadily crafting and working and forcing himself to not rush. This had to be perfect, so he would make it perfect.

Towards the end, it fell into place almost without him needing to will it to. He knew the instant it was done. His eyes snapped open and he realized that he ached all over, his breath was coming in short gasps, and he had sweat pouring off of his body like he had just run the distance of half the planet in a few minutes.

Then he looked down at the small, tribal statue of what he could only loosely call a figure in a fighting pose. The angles in it twisted harshly, giving it a menacing vibe, but he could also feel something else from it, the remnants of his own signature—and yet, something that was not.

He would have been excited…except he wasn't supposed to be able to feel anything. His rush and thrill suddenly fled him and he almost threw the whole thing away in anger. Yet another failure in his attempt to make a shield.

"Wait," Viscral stopped his hand in mid swing. "Set it down and step outside of its boundary."

Obi-wan's scowl deepened but he did as he was told. The three objects had been set in a triangle, and whatever happened to be inside of that triangle, in theory, should not be visible in the Force to anyone outside. He had made several attempts at creating such a shield before, but only with marginal success.

Now, though, as he stepped outside of the area, Viscral stepped in and Obi-wan could only stare in surprise. The man's Force signature had disappeared.

"Not bad," the tribe leader said with a finger on his chin as he examined Obi-wan's work. "It is still not perfect, but I believe you have caught onto the concept."

"I had to change the frequency," Obi-wan said finally, "at the most basal level. It isn't a matter of making something strong in one particular area, but that at least one of the objects covers where the others lack. They have to flow together." As a former Jedi, he really should have thought of that earlier.

"That is one method," Viscral said with a nod. "One that you seem rather suited to. Not surprising given your history."

Obi-wan rolled his eyes. The 'Jedi' joke had gotten old long ago.

Viscral noted it with amusement before examining the anchors again. "Very well, you are dismissed for the day. Go, rest. You leave tomorrow, do you not?"

The former Jedi nodded, gave a slight (very slight) bow and left without so much as another word. He didn't notice how Viscral turned back to the figures he'd only just been working with.

"Your potential never lay with your actual strength in the Force, little Jedi, but in your ability to see how it can be used. Once you release your inhibitions, you will be unstoppable."

xXx

AN: And that's all I have so far. Chapter 19 has been at my beta's for a while (I think rl caught up with them) and even though I have a few more chapters written, it might be a while before anything gets up. Sorry, guys.

I will say, though, that I have not-and will not in any way-abandon this fic!


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